The Gossip Game
by Feyren
Summary: Kirihara Akaya: reporter and ace paparazzo. His talents: going undercover, blending perfectly and getting the best, scandalous photos. His task: pretending to be gay, pretending to date Yukimura, pretending he's not homophobic, and trying not to die.
1. How to Bribe Somebody

So this story won out in the end. I'm still considering the other one; we'll see, I guess. I'm very sorry for making our darling, innocent Aka-chan a sneaking, conniving and slightly heartless paparazzo. Please love him anyway. _I'm very sorry, but this story will not have any yaoi/shounen-ai. _It's purely humor/crack, and while there are a lot (and I mean a _lot_) of suggestive moments, there's nothing concrete.

I know most people tend to skip the author's notes, but if you read it you'll find that** there's a preview for the next chapter **at the very bottom, if you're interested.

* * *

Kirihara Akaya crouched behind the row of shrubs encircling the restaurant. There she was! Emi Masako, famed television actress, star of the famous drama _House on Kite Avenue, _and exclusively dating some sports star. And yet, here she was, sitting across from the French artist Pierre Delacroix, touching his hand and kissing his lips.

Quickly, he snapped a photo or five and stuffed the camera in his backpack. He walked into the restaurant, choosing the table about two or three yards away from theirs, and casually pulled out his cell phone, taking a few pictures with his camera phone too. The alleged couple was completely unaware they were being photographed.

_But they'll find out soon enough, _Akaya thought, _when their pictures turn up on the cover of Star Weekly. _

Yes, Kirihara Akaya was a photographer for Star Weekly—and about a dozen other branched gossip magazines. As a matter of fact, he was their ace photographer, with a reputation to boot. And maybe it wasn't the fanciest job in the world—or, for that matter, the most honest—but damn that, the job paid pretty well. After all, all he had to do was take photos. They didn't even have to be good photos.

And in the end, sneaking around had always been Akaya's strong suit.

A waitress sauntered up to him with an infatuated smile. "Can I take your order?" she asked huskily.

Not to mention he was pretty darn handsome. And he knew it, too. His posture oozed confidence, and his bright green eyes were alert and arrogant. Being so handsome was one of the perks in the job—looking good actually got his job done, and looking hot was probably the easiest part of his job. Deciding to play the waitress's flirting game, Akaya ran a hand through his hair and gave her a charming smile. "Why don't you order for me? I'm pretty new to this restaurant. And..." He winked. "...You seem to have pretty good taste." He fixed his green eyes on her brown ones (because eye contact was the best way to make a girl swoon, something he learned from a fellow reporter, Marui).

The waitress flushed deeply and stammered, "Well, s-sir, you may want to try our new—"

He tuned her out and focused on the couple behind her. They were still holding hands, laughing, smiling like there was no tomorrow. He snorted. They ought to be more careful. Didn't they know there were charming photographers around? Akaya looked up and gave the waitress another smile. "Yes, that will be fine." He tilted his body toward her and murmured enticingly, "Do you mind if I move to that table?" He gestured to the empty table next to the couple. "It's more suited to me. In fact, perhaps you could sit with me for a while, when you're not busy." His hand trailed to hers, and he brought the hand to his lips. His eyes sneaked back to her face, and he smiled against her hand. "It'd be a pleasure."

"No problem at all, sir," she squeaked and ran off to the kitchen. He sighed. The poor lady had no chance against him.

"Hidden in plain sight. Very nice."

Akaya turned around and grinned. "Niou-san," he acknowledged. Niou was his boss, perhaps the slickest of them all. Just looking at him—rattail and all, one could tell he was a man who meant business. A man who didn't seem very honest, either. Most people wondered how he could be best friends with a gentleman like Yagyuu Hiroshi (who was the CEO of a huge corporation and often assisted Niou in his 'scandals' albeit hesitantly). But he was certainly sly. He never did the dirty work himself, though he always knew the right celebrity to focus on—or rather, the right celebrity to ruin.

He and Akaya were truly very alike.

"Is there something you need?" Akaya asked. "I was about to take a close-up." He smirked, and knew his expression was the mirror image of his boss's.

"Nah," Niou said casually, sitting beside him and fiddling with the spoon set on the table. "I was just bored. Came to tell you that you should stop flirting on the job."

Akaya rolled his eyes. Niou certainly wasn't much older than him—only a year, in fact. Given, the young boss had unmistakable talent (rumor had it he had beat every single player in doubles in the country as a youth) in both sports, charm, writing and business, but he tended to be a tad... shall we say, _slacking. _"But boss," Akaya said with fake reverence, "you probably shouldn't be the one telling me that. If anything, I should be telling _you, _am I right?"

He grinned at Akaya. "You're right," he acknowledged, and ironically, just as he said that, the pretty waitress came running back to their table.

"I was wondering—" the waitress began, but abruptly stopped speaking when she saw Niou, playing with the spoon while smiling impishly up at her. His blue eyes sparkled with mirth and mischief, and Akaya couldn't help but roll his eyes again. "H-hello," she stammered, and Niou immediately stood.

"Good day, miss," he purred, bowing slightly and taking her hand. "What a surprise, to have such a beautiful lady assisting us today, eh, Akaya?"

The waitress blushed madly, and the two reporters could almost hear her wailing in her head, _God, this is overwhelming!_

Akaya smiled innocently. "But of course. It goes without saying, Niou-san." To the waitress, he added, "Allow me to introduce the two of you. Madame, this is Niou-san, a very gifted businessman. Niou, this is..." He gazed at the waitress inquiringly, silently asking for her name.

The waitress stumbled over her words, saying, "I'm Rukiro Haruka, nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Niou said casually in English, and Rukiro's eyes widened, finally blurting, "I've got to go to the chef," and running off.

Akaya's eyes dimmed, and he reassumed his uninterested expression. The paparazzo turned to Niou, who had dropped the spoon on the table and had gone back to staring into nothing. "So did you want something, Niou-san?"

"Yeah," he admitted. "I have a new case for you. Of course, it'll grant you a raise. And if you accept the deal, it'll put you in a better position of succeeding me..."

Akaya narrowed his eyes. Niou rarely tried to bribe his workers into doing things. Most of the tasks he assigned were fairly reasonable (except that one time he had forced Marui to dress up as a football mascot to get a scandalous photo of the quarterback). There was no _reason _for him to have to bribe anybody. What was going on here? "What's the task?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

Niou sighed. "You know Yukimura Seiichi, don't you?"

He snorted. "Don't we all?"

"Yes, well, he's recently revealed his bisexuality, right after his breakup with that Rin girl, in fact. There's a rumor going around that it might have been because he was in love with somebody else—" Niou paused dramatically, then continued, "a _man. _But there's no proof of that at the moment. Many people are saying it's his best friend, Sanada Genichiro, but we have no proof of that either."

"You want me to stalk him?" Akaya asked sarcastically.

"In a sense."

"Yeah, okay—wait, _what?"_

"Not exactly _stalk,_" Niou assured soothingly. "I mean, it's not stalking if the person knows you're there, right?"

"I don't understand," the young man said, bemused.

"I want you to pretend to be his boyfriend," Niou blurted.

A moment of silence followed, then a burst of hysterical laughter. "You got me good there. Okay, so what were you saying?"

"No, I'm serious."

"Oh, please no," Akaya whimpered. Yes, he _whimpered. _This is when you know it's getting bad.

"You see, if we have somebody—_not _Sanada—be his new boyfriend, well, this would very well be the biggest gossip yet. There'd be a huge uproar, both over his sexuality and over Sanada not being the boyfriend in question, you understand? And since you're the master flirter, it was a unanimous agreement."

"Marui agreed too?" Akaya asked, horrified. "How could he turn on me like that?"

"Everybody did," Niou insisted, "because you're the best person for the job!"

Normally Akaya would have been flattered by such praise, but flattery had given way to horror, which had given way to something between despair and a strong urge to knock his head against a wall. With all the respect and sanity he had, Akaya enunciated, "_I'm not gay._"

"I know you aren't," Niou answered, exasperated. "But pretend to be. It can't be that different, right? Yukimura looks like a girl anyway. Don't you see? This is perfect! Yukimura recently won a huge tennis tournament, so he's in the spotlight. With our new article, we'll grab the attention! We can sell this for millions in a heartbeat."

"Why can't you do it?"

Niou grinned. "I'm the brains behind the plan, remember?"

Akaya was tempted to snicker at the idea of Niou being the brains behind anything, but decided this wasn't the best time to poke fun at his boss. "B-but—"

"Are you in it or not? If you do this, I can almost guarantee that you'll be the one to succeed me when I retire."

"Yeah, in like, thirty years, when you're fifty or something. By then I'll be fifty too, Mister Brains Behind the Plan!"

"It's not like that. I'll be retiring sooner than you think. Yagyuu's company needs a new project and product designer, as well as a new data coordinator, and they've already asked me to do both. Yagyuu actually wanted me to be co-president, but I need at least two years of experience to do that. And this gossip magazine means a lot to me, but my friend's got to come first, right?"

"That's cool," Akaya said softly, pleased at the thought of his boss moving on to a bigger and better corporation. "But I'm not sure how I feel about pretending to be Yukimura's boyfriend. I mean, what are the chances he'd go after me, anyway?"

"You'd be surprised," Niou said, grinning. "It really doesn't matter either way. As long as we get a photo of him hitting on you, we're all good."

"Well..."

"I'll force Marui on sanitation duty for a week if you do this."

"Done."

That was quite possibly the dumbest thing he'd said in all nineteen years of his life, but he'd learn to regret that word later on.

* * *

So why am I writing this? Because after a few months of skipping from one fandom to another, I realized I'm a Prince of Tennis fan at heart, and I wanted to add something new (which isn't very smart of me, considering I haven't updated _The Tennislutionary War _in what, a month?). So I'm posting this up. Depending on the response this gets, I'll either keep it or delete it. It's not a huge loss either way, because keeping it means more writing, and deleting it still means more writing, because there's still _The Tennislutionary War _to worry about.

So, yeah. **Here's the preview:**

"_I'm going to kill you, Niou-san! Get me out of here; Yukimura's nut case, damn it! Did you know he tried to kiss me? On the neck? The neck, Niou!"_

"_Dude, that's creepy. You've only been on what, one date?"_

"_Yeah, and that was hell in itself. Please let me leave," Akaya begged. "Send Marui in or something."_

"_Sorry brat, but you're in too deep to back out now. Look on the bright side: Yukimura's got some hot fangirls. You don't see chicks like that in the office, eh?"_

"_Are you stupid? They think I'm gay!"_

"_Oh, right. Forgot about that for a sec."_


	2. How to Not Ask Somebody Out

This chapter really isn't as funny as the last one, and I really wanted to fit the whole date in here but then it threatened to be fourteen pages, and I don't think you guys want to spend an hour at the computer.

Also, because of school, chances are this story will only be able to be updated once a week, at most. With luck you can expect this chapter by Sunday, but probably not on a weekday. Sorry for the inconvenience.

* * *

The tennis ball flew back and forth, from Sanada to Yukimura, from Yukimura to Sanada, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. It was like watching a pendulum swing, and the rally never seemed to end. Akaya was getting tired just watching it. He was supposed to (_insert cringe here) _ask Yukimura out today, right after the match, or at least flirt with him to get the tennis player to notice his existence.

He honestly wasn't looking forward to it. _Marui has it easy, _Akaya thought grimly, thinking of how the older reporter was waiting outside at the moment, flirting with random people (girls, the lucky guy!) and slacking off.

"Fifteen-love!"

Akaya couldn't help but sigh at the word 'love.' Not in a romantic way, but rather in a God-help-me-now-because-my-boss-is-a-psychotic-nut way. This was just so completely unfair. Yukimura Seiichi was a year older than him, he was incredibly famous, he had a billion fangirls who would probably end up killing Akaya for "taking him away from them," and for heaven's sake, Akaya _wasn't gay. _He was honestly beginning to believe that Niou was doing this just to spite him, and clearly his boss was getting a kick out of it.

Akaya wanted to kick _him. _

With a groan, Akaya banged his head against the glass panel between him and the tennis courts (something that had seemed very appealing during his conversation with Niou yesterday). A group of people also watching the tennis match between Yukimura and Sanada angrily shushed him, and he frowned, leaving his seat to go outside and fetch a drink.

Marui was sitting on the bench right outside the stadium, calmly flipping through a magazine and sipping a soda. "Out so soon?" he asked with a knowing grin, noticing Akaya's angry expression. "Shot down already?"

"No!" Akaya snapped. "I didn't ask yet. The stupid match is taking too long."

"Aw, does our little Aka-chan have a bad case of homophobia?" the redhead taunted, turning back to his magazine. "Don't worry. Yukimura seems pretty nice; he'll let you down easy."

"Don't be so sure," Akaya answered smugly. "It can't be that hard to seduce a gay guy, right? I mean, from what I've heard they're not all that different from women. Just more flamboyant and stuff. I can deal with that." He ran a hand through his hair confidently and grinned. "All I have to do is smile at him, run a hand through my hair, introduce myself, take a step closer and offer him the absolute pleasure of my company."

"Your typical routine with women," Marui realized approvingly. Then he snorted. "Good luck with that. You're a dead man, Kirihara."

Akaya tried to remember why he'd chosen to bring the obnoxious reporter with him, and recalled it had been for emotional support.

What a stupid idea that had been.

"You should probably go back," Marui continued. "The match is tied five games all, right? I don't know much about tennis, but isn't there a match point thing or something around there?"

"What do you mean, you don't know much about tennis?" Akaya protested. "You're the one who's always bragging about your tennis wizardry and your genius talents. You never shut up about it," he added in a mutter, but of course Marui heard that, and shot Akaya a dirty glare.

"I'd love to be in that stadium, watching that game right now," he replied, "but you're supposed to hit on Yukimura once the match ends, remember? Niou told us that after Yukimura finishes his game, he's going to the bench to warm up for a practice match with some Yanagi guy or something. He's going to be totally body-guard free, and the fans will have left by then. You can't afford to miss that moment..." Marui grinned widely, "or you'll be screwed."

He was about to retort, but then Marui added, "But getting screwed is the goal, right?" and Akaya just about fell over.

* * *

"Game, Yukimura! Seven games to six!"

Akaya sighed, half from relief that the relentless volleying and rallying was finally over, and half from anxiety. _Okay. Just do this. Pretend Yukimura's a girl. It's like Niou said—the guy looks like a girl anyway. No big difference, right?_

He squinted and tried to imagine the sweaty athlete as a hot supermodel, but all he could see was Marui pointing and laughing at him, calling him things he really didn't want to be called.

And he reallydidn't want to hit on _Marui. _

Yukimura was smiling and waving to fans, and shook hands with his best friend, Sanada. They said something brief, then Yukimura began stretching, just as the fans left the stadium and began crowding outside the doors. Clearly they were hoping for a quick autograph session once Yukimura left the courts, but they'd have to wait. Akaya took a deep breath. _Just don't think about it, _he soothed himself. _Get it over with, and once Yukimura turns you down, you can go to Niou, step on his foot and demand compensation for doing something so humiliating. Like a therapist. Yeah, that could work. Just don't think about it. That's all there is to it._

Akaya huffed and, carrying his soft drink, jumped onto the courts. Sanada had already left, and Yukimura was standing by himself, drinking a bottle of water and barely glancing at the young man making his way to him. "H-hello," Akaya offered.

At last the blunette turned to him, and gave him a brilliant smile. "Hello, nice to meet you. Can I help you?"

The reporter cringed again, then quickly covered his half disgusted, half horrified expression with a flirty grin. "I'm Kirihara Akaya, nice to meet you too." He ran his hand through his hair again (albeit extremely awkwardly) and smiled. _Just follow the routine. _"T-that was a, uh, great match today." He looked at the floor, pretending to be shy, then looked back up at him with mischievous eyes.

Or, at least, that was what he was supposed to do.

Instead, in all his awkward awesomeness, he'd glanced at the floor and stared back up with the crazed, terrified eyes of a lunatic, and somehow Akaya doubted that the young tennis star would find that attractive.

Flirting with girls was so much easier. For one, he wasn't scared of them. And Yukimura's intent, never-fading smile was actually starting to bother them.

Yukimura's smile widened, and soon it had turned into a smiling contest, seeing whose smile would outlast the other's. "Thank you very much."

Summoning all his courage, Akaya took a step closer and silently hoped nobody would see what would happen next. "So, uh—" But fate had decided to be cruel and he tripped over air, landing on Yukimura's racquet—and flat on his face. Miraculously, his soft drink was still in one piece (though he couldn't say as much for the rest of him). _God, this is embarrassing, _he thought with a red face, and stood to the sound of Yukimura's laughing. Unable to help himself, he protested, "It's mean to laugh at an injured person!" He stood and put a hand on his hip angrily, trying to look sexy and offended at the same time.

It was a bad look for him, because he strongly resembled a scorned woman with dirt on his face.

Yukimura's hearty laughter died down, and the tennis player settled for beaming sweetly at him, blue eyes shining and wavy hair delicately flying in the breeze. He looked truly majestic, and maybe that was why Akaya spontaneously dropped his drink—and the red liquid spontaneously landed on Yukimura's shirt.

There was a gasp, an embarrassed glance, and then more hysterical laughter. "My, my," Yukimura said, "what a day." In a joking manner, he added, "You'll have to pay me back for this, you know."

Akaya nodded sheepishly. _And Niou, you're paying for all this. _"Y-yeah, sorry about that."

"So, how about paying me back tomorrow night at the Roux la Vex? Six o'clock?"

Akaya could only stare, astonished. _Yukimura _asked _him _out? The soft drink was clearly messing with his head (and his flirting abilities), because all he did was stand there, mouth hanging somewhere below his knees and realizing that it was incredibly hard to breathe when a famous tennis star is grinning daggers at you—daggers that, unfortunately, represented more amusement than violence. And Akaya would much rather get kicked in the head than get laughed at. His ego was picky like that.

Strange preference, no?

"It's a date," Akaya finally blurted, trying to regain his composure. He was just about to conduct his 'routine,' when:

Yukimura ran a hand through his hair, grinned at him, took a step closer and whispered, "Guess it is," before he finally sauntered off.

Well, now. _That _was eerily familiar.

* * *

Marui was laughing hysterically and Akaya was thoroughly pissed off. "He asked you out? _He asked you out? _You lucky son of a—"

"Shush!" Akaya hissed, throwing a pillow at his colleague and plopping down on the sofa. "Don't tell anybody about this, okay? I really like Sakuno, and if she thinks I'm _gay, _then—"

"You like Sakuno-chan? Really?" Marui whistled. "She's definitely a looker, but you haven't got a shot. Now tell me how you tricked Yukimura into going out with you."

"I didn't _trick _him!" Marui watched him from above, still looking a little too amused for Akaya's comfort. "It was weird, okay?" Then he smirked. "I guess my stunning good looks were too much for him, eh?"

The redhead began laughing again. "You wish, man! I bet he asked you out because of pity. Probably out of pity. I'm so smart, I figured that out in what, two seconds? I'm such a genius, such a genius..."

Another pillow was promptly thrown at him.

"Okay, wait, wait," Marui interrupted, still stifling his laughter. "What exactly happened? Like, did you actually flirt with him? Did _he _flirt with _you? _Damn, I can't believe I missed it." He quickly held up a pillow to shield himself from whatever Akaya was going to throw at him next.

Akaya scowled. If he admitted what really happened, well, he'd never hear the end of it, would he? But because he was such an honest person, he told the truth, and nothing but the truth.

And embellished just a little bit. Just a little.

Like saying how Yukimura was begging him to go out with him after Akaya flashed his trademark smile and rainbows suddenly shot out of his eyes and cherry blossoms had come out of nowhere to give him their blessings.

Okay, so maybe not _just _a little.

Marui nodded intently as Akaya finished, and smiled up at him. "Wow."

"Yup," Akaya said proudly.

"That's pretty amazing."

"Yup."

"Now tell me what really happened."

Damn. And with that, Akaya succumbed to his fate.

* * *

"Holy crap," Marui yelped when Akaya came back from his 'date,' exhausted and looking extremely disheveled. "Did the guy rape you or something?"

Akaya nodded absentmindedly and staggered to his room. "Something like that." He moaned. "Don't remind me. That was the worst date I've ever been on and I'm never doing this again. Give me the phone."

Tossing one last glance at his hell-bent friend, Marui rushed out of the room to fetch the phone.

The green-eyed man fell onto his bed and closed his eyes.

That.

Was.

Hell.

_Oh my God, he tried to... And then he... And I... But then... Ew._

"Here's the phone," Marui said meekly, handing Akaya a simple cordless phone. The younger man practically tore it out of his hands, and started dialing a number with sudden energy, conviction, and just a tidbit of violence. There was the sound of Niou answering the phone, and then:

"I'm going to kill you, Niou-san! Get me out of here; Yukimura's nut case, damn it! Did you know he tried to kiss me? On the neck? The neck, Niou!"

"Dude, that's creepy. You've only been on what, one date?"

"Yeah, and that was hell in itself. Please let me leave," Akaya begged. "Send Marui in or something."

"Sorry brat, but you're in too deep to back out now. Look on the bright side: Yukimura's got some hot fangirls. You don't see chicks like that in the office, eh?"

"Are you stupid? They think I'm gay!"

"Oh, right. Forgot about that for a sec."

"You're not helping! Please, please let me go. You can even fire me, if you want! I don't care if you make Marui jump off of Mount Fuji, _please,_" he moaned, rolling over and hitting his head on a lamp. "Ow." He rubbed his nose, perhaps a bit more pissed off than what was healthy for him.

"What, are you and that tennis player doing _it _right now?"

Akaya glared, temporarily forgetting that his boss couldn't see him over the phone. "First of all, _Niou, _you're twenty. I'm nineteen. I think we're old enough to say 'sex' without getting a rash. Second of all, _no. _We've officially established tonight that I have a severe case of homophobia and a fear of blunettes who hit on you five minutes into the freaking date. Third of all, screw you!"

"Sorry man," Niou cackled, "but you're going to have to save all that screwing passion for Yukimura, 'cause you didn't take any photos, did you?"

Akaya froze. _Shoot. I knew I forgot something. _

"That's what I thought," Niou said triumphantly. "You'll need to ask him out on another date or something, because we still don't have any evidence."

"No, no, no, no!" he pleaded, squeezing a pillow. "I quit! I'm leaving the magazine! I'll go study psychology or something, and I'm resigning as soon as I figure out how to download resignation forms."

"You can't. I'm Star Magazine's boss, and I'm not accepting any resignations until you finish this assignment."

"I hate you."

"Good luck, Kirihara. You're one of my best photographers. Don't screw up now." There was a quiet chuckle, and Niou mumbled, "_Haha, screw... I crack myself up." _Then the line went dead.

Akaya snarled at the phone and hurled it against the wall. Marui walked inside, sitting on the chair next to the bed and offering his friend a cup of hot coffee. "What happened?" he asked calmly, trying not to give away his worry (and sadistic amusement).

"Well..."

* * *

Are you confused? So basically, I skipped the date in this chapter. It shows Akaya talking to Marui, and somewhere in between he leaves for his date, and at the end he comes back, totally freaked out. The date that was left out will be in the next chapter, promise. I'm sorry for leaving it here, but in the next chapter you'll get to watch Akaya make an idiot of himself. **Here's the preview (the date):**

_He wondered if he could make a quick getaway. _

"_You showed up!" Yukimura suddenly exclaimed, delighted. _

_Guess not._

_Akaya smiled, though the smile came out looking much more like a grimace. He made his way to the table (which was in the very back!) and put his hands in his pockets in a meager attempt to look cool. _

"_Sure did," he answered weakly, and stood there, awkwardly. He cleared his throat. If he was going to do this, then he was going to be the dominant one in the relationship. So what if he was a year younger? Yukimura looked like a girl and he didn't. That was enough evidence for him. "So, uh..." He played with his tie as seductively as he could. "..." And that was when he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say._

"_Oh! Please excuse my horrible manners," the blunette said politely, and pulled out a chair for him. Akaya mentally smacked himself on the forehead. Way to be a man, Akaya. Way to be a man._

_So he sat down like the woman he was going to have to act like for the rest of the date._

_God, this was hell. _


	3. How Not to Act On a Date

I'm not the type to be picky about getting reviews, and I don't write to get reviewers. But it's incredibly frustrating when one gets a lot of reviews for the first chapter, and almost none for the second. Are people just not reading this anymore? Honestly, if I don't get enough feedback, I will take this down. This story is an experiment, and if no one's reading it, then there's really no reason for me to update this any further. Just saying.

* * *

"Come on," Marui said coaxingly once Akaya had stopped hurling things at the wall. "Tell me what happened. I won't laugh, promise."

Akaya gave him a look.

"Fine, I don't _promise. _But I'll try! It's only going hurt more if you bottle it up," Marui said with a tone that was just screaming _I'm so awesome. _"I should know—I'm a genius."

His friend scowled and flopped onto the couch. "Fine, you really want to know?"

Marui huffed. "You think?"

"Fine, I'll tell you. Okay, so…"

* * *

Akaya straightened his tie and tried to breathe deeply. He'd been on plenty of dates before—some in the same night. And he was certainly an expert at wooing women; his looks kind of guaranteed that for him. He'd go off into a showy speech about how he had spent his whole life as whatever he was posing to be, how his parents never loved him and he searched for comfort in the arms of many, and how they'd all broken his heart until he'd met whoever he was trying to woo. A smile, a wink, and a toss of his hair had been all it had taken to make a mass of girls swoon.

"It's going to be different with guys though," Marui had told him. The older reporter had offered to give him some tips on how to act gay before he'd left for his date, and Akaya had gratefully accepted them. "I mean, with girls you just kind of seduce them. But with guys, you have to be all deep and meaningful. They're into that stuff. Make sure you comment on how great he looks when you get there, and say something about how his tie matches his beautiful, vivid eyes.

"Then you pull out the chair for him—to kind of show that you're the guy in this relationship, and that you're someone he can depend on. Always ask him what he wants before you order for yourself. And pour the wine for him." At this point, Marui wagged his eyebrows. "If you're lucky, he might just get drunk, and you'll actually have a chance with him!

"Okay, so then, you make small talk. Let him talk—always let him talk, and pretend to relate to whatever he's saying. And if he asks you something, start talking about the dramatics of your childhood, like you were beat up as a child and your father was al alcoholic or something. And how you vowed never to love, but then you found _him, _and how you're drowning in the depths of his cerulean eyes—" Marui sighed dreamily.

Akaya had merely arched an eyebrow. "That's scary," he'd said.

But now, he was wishing he'd paid a bit more attention.

He hesitantly walked toward the restaurant. Yukimura had texted him an hour ago, asking that he show up at the address by eight in the evening. He glanced up at the building. It was one of those fancy French restaurants, where people ate snails, pretended to like it, then threw up in the bathroom when they thought no one was looking.

The man in front of the door gave a quick bow. "Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"Uh, yeah. I'm with Yukimura Seiichi. I think we've got a reservation for two."

Immediately, the door was opened for him and he was ushered inside. Akaya frowned and surveyed the restaurant. It was awfully large, and the tables were all decent lengths apart. It took him a while to find Yukimura, and when he did, he realized that the table was in the very back. Next to the little table of roses and candles, and that weird wine holding thing. It looked completely romantic, even a bit suggestive. Yukimura sat there, fiddling with his tie and staring serenely at the candles. The fire illuminated his brilliant blue eyes, and at that moment, Akaya decided that the effeminate tennis player looked like an angel.

He wondered if he could make a quick getaway.

"You showed up!" Yukimura suddenly exclaimed, delighted.

Guess not.

Akaya smiled, though the smile came out looking much more like a grimace. He made his way to the table (which was in the very back!) and put his hands in his pockets in a meager attempt to look cool.

"Sure did," he answered weakly, and stood there, awkwardly. He cleared his throat. If he was going to do this, then he was going to be the dominant one in the relationship. So what if he was a year younger? Yukimura looked like a girl and he didn't. That was enough evidence for him. "So, uh..." He played with his tie as seductively as he could. "..." And that was when he realized he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to say.

"Oh! Please excuse my horrible manners," the blunette said politely, and pulled out a chair for him. Akaya mentally smacked himself on the forehead. Way to be a man, Akaya. Way to be a man.

So he sat down like the woman he was going to have to act like for the rest of the date.

God, this was hell.

Akaya cleared his throat, and Yukimura smiled intently at him. And just as the reporter was about to go into a fancy speech about Yukimura's beautiful eyes, Yukimura said, "My, your eyes are a brilliant green. Like Colombian emeralds. I could stare into them forever." His voice was smooth, no discomfort in them at all. "They remind me of the meadow I wandered into as a child." He chuckled, and added, "It was a rather romantic setting."

Akaya blanched.

This guy was stealing all of his lines.

_All of them._

And while Akaya wasn't looking forward to acting gay, he also hated sitting there like an idiot and staring into Yukimura's eyes (which actually were very daunting). "I—I, uh…"

Yukimura smiled sweetly. "I can't believe I was so lucky as to get a date with you. You're endearing, adorable. Goodness, I wish I could find the words to describe you—you could put a rose to shame, Aka-chan."

Oh, God.

Did he just…?

He didn't.

He _did!_

"Excuse me," Akaya huffed, "but _what _did you call me?"

"Adorable," he chuckled. "You know… as in, cute? You're so cute, Aka-chan."

"That's what I thought you called me." Akaya took a deep breath and answered stiffly, "Thank you. Your eyes are… uh… That is, they're…"

Yukimura chuckled. "Oh, you don't need to respond, darling. I'm content just staring those emerald jewels." And the tennis player just stared at him, as if waiting for a response.

He stared.

And stared.

And stared.

And finally, Akaya blurted, "You look pretty!"

Wow. Totally smooth, Akaya. Totally smooth.

Akaya groaned inwardly and grabbed the wine.

Yukimura bubbled with laughter. "Why, thank you! But not as pretty as the… _delightful _gem sitting across from me." He licked his lips, and Akaya shivered at the look in his date's eyes.

The _You-should-probably-change-the-conversation-before-I-molest-you _look.

As if to complete the gesture, Yukimura leaned forward on the table and whispered into Akaya's neck, "It really is such an honor to be here with you."

Akaya convulsed.

On the inside.

Because even though he ought to have thrown manners out the window by now, he was still sane enough to know that throwing up on his date probably wouldn't help his cause.

With a grimace, Akaya dumped half the bottle into his flute and took a long sip. "Right. Well, tell me about yourself," he said, remembering Marui's words. "Have you always played tennis?"

"You see," Yukimura said cheerily, "I was abused as a child. My mother never loved me and my father was always trying to mold me into someone I knew I would never be. I constantly searched for love—and I found many people who promised me, though in the end, they always broke my heart. Tennis became the only solace I had, and I vowed never to love again—until I met you."

Well.

That sounded oddly familiar.

"That's tragic," Akaya answered slowly, and took another long drink of wine.

"It is," Yukimura said, averting his eyes and turning to the candles again.

Akaya had a feeling that Yukimura knew how the fire from the candles made him look godly.

He resented him for that.

"But now I have you," Yukimura said brightly. "So, why'd you decide to go to my tennis game that day?"

He coughed awkwardly and quickly drank more wine.

_My glass looks funny when it's empty, _he thought deliriously, and poured more. "I felt like it," he said in a slur. "You got a problem with that?"

Yukimura seemed startled. "Well, of course not. I'm honored you'd choose to watch my game."

"Damn straight," he grumbled, and tossed back another shot. Akaya wasn't the type to get drunk—in fact, he rarely drank at all. Most of the time, it was just for show (girls do love a guy who takes a refined sip of red wine now and again), but he almost never finished a whole bottle—or a glass, for that matter—in one night.

Then again, this was a… _special _occasion.

Yukimura seemed amused. "Should I order another bottle of wine?" he offered. "It's very good, indeed. I have my own set at home." He grinned. "You should visit, sometime, to check it out. I'm sure you'd find it _very _interesting." And he laughed that gentle, trickling laugh of his.

Akaya mumbled something incoherent.

"Excuse me? I'm sorry, I didn't catch that—I was too entranced by your amazing figure."

Oh, he _so _knew how uncomfortable Akaya was.

And he was _so _doing this on purpose.

…It was _so _working.

"You're mean," Akaya finally grumbled, grabbing the wine that the waiter had just set on the table and immediately pouring a glass. "You're like that kid in my class from seventh grade." A long chug. "He-he was mean. He used to hide my uniform in the locker rooms. And-and…" He poured more, and swallowed it all in one swig. "And I had a pet rabbit."

"You had a rabbit?" Yukimura asked, slightly confused but mostly amused.

"He was—he was such a good bunny," Akaya said dazedly. "Not a mean bunny. He was a good bunny."

"You're drunk," Yukimura realized.

"Am not!" Akaya glared at him, offended. "Listen! He-he had white fur, and red eyes and he was a loyal bunny… Really loyal. Like, _really _loyal."

"I'm sure he was," the blunette replied, smiling in that knowing way. "Perhaps I should escort you home now."

"You don't want to hear about the bunny?" Akaya screeched, pounding on the table. Then he collapsed onto the chair, mumbling sadly, "He was such a good bunny, such a good bunny…"

"I'll escort you home," Yukimura decided, and after placing a large check on the table, took Akaya's arm and led him out of the restaurant.

"You stole my shoes in third grade," he suddenly blurted. "You stole my shoes! Give me back my shoes!"

"What?"

"My _shoes!_ I want my shoes! I want—I want my shoes!"

"But—"

"Shoe thief! You stupid, obnoxious, blue haired shoe thief—"

"If you'd just listen—"

"My _bunny! _My bunny was in my shoes, and you took—"

"Please, just—"

"I want my shoes," Akaya wept, collapsing on the sidewalk. "I want my shoes back." His rants collapsed into a round of sobs, and while Yukimura considered himself to be a very kind person, he couldn't help but burst in explosive laughter at the exchange.

"I'll walk you home," he said gently, trying to hold the giggles back, "and then we'll find your shoes, okay?"

"Okay," he sniffled, and Yukimura pulled him back up.

And he fell back down right after.

They'd barely made it past five steps when Akaya started to insist that he walk home by himself. Yukimura seemed to find the notion especially hilarious, considering Akaya couldn't really walk—or stand, for that matter.

But even in his drunken haze, Akaya knew that having Yukimura know his address would be a very bad thing indeed.

Thus began the walk home alone.

(It should probably be mentioned that he never touched a drop of alcohol after that incident.)

* * *

I know I said Yukimura's intentions would be revealed in this chapter, but I really can't include it in this chapter. The next one, promise! And now, the **preview:**

"_Promise you won't hurt him," Sanada finally said, sounding strangely serene. "He puts up such a sadistic front—"_

_Akaya snapped, "You think?"_

"—_but he's a delicate person at heart. He's fragile. Protect him for me."_

_With a sigh of resignation, he agreed, "I will."_

_And just like that, Sanada's kind demeanor vanished. "Good. Because if you break his heart, I'll break your neck."_

_Akaya took that as a sign to run home._


	4. How to Freak Someone Out

Akaya turned over in his bed, staring determinedly at his lamp. Marui had been knocking on his bedroom door for the past twenty minutes, but Akaya hadn't bothered opening it even once.

There was no way in hell he was leaving the room.

Yukimura, being the filthy rich, ultra-famous celebrity he was, could find him in the blink of an eye. But not even his very tall and scary looking body guards could get Akaya out of bed. It was just too humiliating. After waking up from possibly the worst (and only) hangover he ever had, he'd snuck outside for a mug of coffee and quickly dashed back in.

The coffee mug now sat, empty, on the bedside table. A box of half eaten cereal was placed next to it. He had all he needed to survive in that one room.

"I know you're awake!" Marui suddenly shouted from outside the room.

"Am not!" Akaya blurted, then promptly slapped a hand over his mouth. "Oops."

Marui chuckled. "Let me in, come on! You can't stay in there forever, you moron. Niou-san's coming over. Said he wanted to talk to you about the project or something."

"Tell him I'm dead!"

"You just spoke to him yesterday."

"Kill _him_."

Marui's chuckle morphed into a full blown laugh. "Sorry man—you know you're my best friend and all, but not even _I, _the genius of all geniuses, hottest of all hot guys, smartest of all smart people, most charming of all charmers—"

Akaya rolled his eyes behind the wooden door. "Marui."

"Oh, right. Not even I would ever face the wrath of Niou. Without Yagyuu, he'd kill us without a second thought."

"That's why I said kill him first."

"No way, I heard he's had combat training since he was five—why are we talking about this? Get up already. You need to call Yukimura, apologize sweetly, and ask for a second chance. From what you told me yesterday, he seemed more amused than anything."

"That's what sucks about it," Akaya groaned, and buried his face into a pillow.

"Well, suck it up and go hit on him because otherwise you're getting fired," Marui said unsympathetically. "And you _know _Niou has like, two hit men on speed dial."

_True._

Resignedly, Akaya flung the door open and glared at the older man. "I don't like you."

"Like I care," he snorted. "Save all your loving for Yukimura, 'cause you're calling him. Now."

* * *

_I am either very brave or I have a death wish, _Akaya decided. Because once again, he was standing outside of a restaurant, debating whether or not to enter at the risk of potentially being sexually assaulted by a pro tennis player.

It was a very stupid idea to ask Yukimura out. He should have known that Yukimura would never let _Akaya _be the one to ask him out. No, he'd never let _Akaya _play the male role for once. The conversation went something like this:

"_Uh, Yukimura, right?"_

"_Aka-chan!" _

Twitch. _"Aha… yes, it's _Kirihara._ I felt horrible about how I acted last night, and—"_

"_Oh, this is perfect! I was going to call you to ask you out again, anyway. This must be fate, ne?"_

"_Uh, right. So I wanted—"_

"_Let's go out again, today! I have the day free, and I'd love to see you again, Aka-chan."_

"_As would I." _Lie. _"I feel bad about being so rude last time." _Lie number two. _"And I was hoping I could make it up to you." _Lie number three. _"So I thought maybe we could meet up at the—"_

"_How's L'Chambeau sound? Today at five?"_

Another twitch. _"That's great."_

"_See you soon, cupcake."_

There was some undignified sputtering at the rather outrageous nickname, but Yukimura had already hung up the phone.

"Are you Kirihara-san?" The voice interrupted his thoughts, and Akaya whipped around to see a grumpy looking man in a fancy suit. The imagery was completely ruined by the improper cap on his head.

"I am," he said coolly. "And you?"

"Sanada. Sanada Genichirou. Pleased to meet you." But he didn't sound pleased at all.

Sanada Genichirou, Sanada Genichirou. Why did that sound so familiar?

Then…

_Oh, crap._

"You're Yukimura's friend," he blurted. "Sanada Genichirou, of course. I'm sorry I didn't recognize you earlier. It's great to meet you." _And I'm totally not saying this because you look like you could kill me with your bare hands._

He merely nodded in response. "Yukimura's waiting for you. What are you doing, standing outside?"

Akaya hesitated. There wasn't really a decent excuse for making Yukimura wait, and considering the fact that Sanada had been standing there the whole time, watching, gave Akaya very little to work with.

"Just nervous," he finally said, and grinned sheepishly to make the act more convincing. "I guess it's kind of intimidating, going out on a date with someone so talented."

Sanada gave him a look, like maybe he was laying it on a bit too thick. "And you're not after his wealth, fame, or power," he said dubiously.

Akaya almost rolled his eyes. _Like hell. No, I just need to pretend to be gay to get as much dirt on him as possible so my boss doesn't kill me. _"Of course not," he said briskly. "Yukimura's a wonderful person, if not a bit…" He flinched. "…Er, not subtle."

With one perfectly arched eyebrow, Sanada inquired, "What do you mean?"

"He sort of tried to bite my neck on our first date," Akaya said flatly.

Much to his annoyance, Sanada _laughed. _Seriously. You don't _laugh _when your best friend tries to swallow a complete stranger's face. It was just not done.

Of course, switching your sexual orientation to please your boss wasn't really done either, but Akaya decided not to think about that.

"Promise you won't hurt him," Sanada finally said, sounding strangely serene. "He puts up such a sadistic front—"

Akaya snapped, "You _think?"_

"—but he's a delicate person at heart. He's fragile. Protect him for me."

With a sigh of resignation, he agreed, "I will."

And just like that, Sanada's kind demeanor vanished. "Good. Because if you break his heart, I'll break your neck."

Akaya took that as a sign to run home.

* * *

Of course, Marui had completely broken his promise to avoid laughing when Akaya told him what happened, and was currently cackling hysterically on the floor. And finally he got up, dusted himself off, and gave Akaya a serious look. "Dude, you're screwed."

"No way," Akaya answered sarcastically. "I thought he was just threatening to snap my neck for fun. And he could do it, too. Seriously, he could. Have you _seen _the pictures of him in magazines?"

"He looks like a rock," Marui agreed.

"He looks like a rock with _abs,_" Akaya corrected. "And muscles. And he's really big. And he was staring down at me, all condescending-ish."

"He's a big rock with abs and muscles," his friend concluded. "And a cap. We can't forget the cap." Then something dawned on him. "If you ran straight home like a chicken—"

"Not like a chicken," Akaya grumbled.

"—like a chicken, then you didn't show up for Yukimura's date, did you?"

He froze. "Oh, shoot!"

Marui shot up, out of his seat and pointed accusingly at the green-eyed reporter. "You stood him up! Niou's going to have your head for this. You were supposed to make up for last time, today! Remember, when you made an idiot of yourself and started talking about bunnies?"

"Don't remind me," Akaya moaned. "Really, don't. Now I'm going to have to ask him out _again, _and he's going to be the one who ends up making the calls _again, _and I'm going to be embarrassed _again…_"

"If it weren't for the totally obvious annoyance in your voice, I'd think you were a giddy schoolgirl who's about to ask her idol out," Marui noted, and was promptly whacked with a pillow. "Aw, don't be like that, Akaya. If it helps, I'll take you to a gay bar or something, call up Jackal or someone, and we'll teach you how to act fag-ish. I think he has a video on it, actually…"

"…"

* * *

Yukimura laughed, sitting across from Sanada in the restaurant. "I was wondering why he didn't show! You scared him off, eh?"

Sanada frowned. "I don't like him. You shouldn't trust him, Yukimura. He could be using you."

"He is," Yukimura chirped. "I did some research on him. He's a reporter, and his boss sent him to pretend to be my boyfriend to get gossip on me, and he's going to publish it as soon as he gets something."

"Wh-what—"

"And," he went on merrily, "he's straight! Which is why he was acting so idiotic on our first date. He's clearly homophobic. Poor guy, pretending to be gay. He's definitely meant to be straight."

"Aren't _you_ straight?" Sanada asked with an even sharper frown. "Wasn't this whole pretending to be gay thing just a ploy to get the fangirls off your back?"

"Pretending to date him can't hurt," Yukimura explained, sounding so ridiculously casual that one might have assumed he was talking about the weather. He poured himself a small glass of water and smiled at his friend. "If people think I'm taken, then I'll get fewer confessions, and the such. It's actually beneficial, so you don't need to worry."

"But he's trying to get dirt on you!" Sanada exclaimed. "What if he actually finds something?"

"He won't," Yukimura assured. "I'm good at keeping secrets. I'll be fine."

"You're only inviting trouble."

"I know," he said with a little giggle.

The giggle. Sanada frowned. The giggle was always a bad sign.

At least, for Kirihara, it was. Maybe he ought to warn him.

…Nah.

"But it's just so much fun," Yukimura continued. "I can't help it. He's so much fun to toy with. I was flirting with him the whole time yesterday, and he was shaking like a leaf. I haven't enjoyed myself so much since I was twelve."

Sanada opened his mouth to say something, then paused. "I have a headache," he said at last, and Yukimura chuckled again.

"Don't scare him off next time, okay? You're ruining the fun. In fact, if you promise not to scare him, I'll let you join in for a threesome." He threw his head back and laughed (rather maniacally).

Sanada shook with disgust at the mere thought. "I'd rather not." He hesitated, then added, "But I wouldn't mind helping your cause."

"That's the spirit!" Yukimura praised. He raised his glass of water. "To a future of sadism and entertainment."

Sanada clinked their glasses together. "Don't kill him."

"I'll try." And Yukimura laughed again.

* * *

Poor Akaya. He has no idea how much torture he's about to go through…

Is anyone confused? Feel free to ask if you are. And now, the **preview:**

"_I really do feel bad about last time," Akaya said apologetically. "If there's any way I can make it up to you…"_

_He shouldn't have said that._

_Oh, Akaya. Dear, naïve Akaya._

_Yukimura's grin took a sadistic turn, but Akaya didn't notice. "There is a way, in fact." He reached for Akaya's curly hair and brushed it away from his face. "If you wouldn't mind…"_

_Akaya bit his lip. Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream. You're manlier than this, Akaya. "Of course not," he managed. "Anything."_

"_Anything," Yukimura repeated with a sly smile. "I like the sound of that. Come with me to the costume shop, then."_

"_Costume shop…?"_


	5. How to Work With Fuji

It was only until I got to describing the dress that I realized, "Oh my God, I'm making Akaya crossdress _again._" So sorry, Akaya—I swear, it's like my subconscious mind is doing this or something. I'm not even kidding. This is the _third _time! And even though he's not actually going to do it in this chapter, it'll definitely be in the next.

* * *

The costume shop's chimes sounded, alerting Fuji Syusuke of a new customer, but he paid it no mind.

"Fuji-kun?"

At the sound of that voice, Fuji looked up immediately. "Yukimura-kun! How wonderful to see you!"

Yukimura smiled down at him. "It's wonderful to see you as well. How have you been?"

"I'm well, thank you. But why have you come?" The brunet looked vaguely perplexed. "While I'm touched that you'd think to stop by and visit me, you're really not the type of person to do something for no reason, Yukimura…"

He laughed that light, tinkling laughter of his. "You've seen through me. To be honest, Fuji-kun, I came in hopes of receiving advice. You're known so well for your sadism, you see."

The perplexed expression on Fuji's face cleared, and was replaced by a look of malevolent delight. "How pleasant! Although I wish you wouldn't degrade my reputation like that; I'm just a designer, after all."

"One of the most popular in the country," Yukimura affirmed. "But that's really not why I came."

Fuji's grin widened. "I think I know, now. Didn't you recently acquire a new boy-toy?"

Yukimura didn't think twice about the degrading term used for his supposed boyfriend. "I did."

"Isn't said boy-toy a straight paparazzo?"

"You did research on him too?" he asked, pleasantly surprised.

"Well, yes," Fuji answered with a shrug. "You're one of my best friends, Yukimura. I did it out of concern and nothing else."

"You mean you got tired of playing pranks on Tezuka and deciding to pry into my personal life," Yukimura said, amused.

"Of course. In any case, I thought perhaps you'd agreed to date him to get the fan girls off your back. But I still don't see how that concerns me."

Yukimura smiled. "You're partially correct. I do want the fan girls to go away and all, but this is all just _so _entertaining. I've had my share of fun humiliating him, of course. I flirted with him, kissed him, played with his tie, got him drunk…"

"I'm not sure I like where this is going," Fuji mused.

"No, nothing happened, really. It's just, I can't think of any other ways to toy with him. Well actually, I can think of plenty, but I want to know what _you _would do. You're such an expert on sadism, after all."

"I'm touched." Fuji shut his laptop and leaned forward on his desk. "To be honest, I was waiting for you to ask that." His blue eyes flashed with something that could only be called evil. "We simply must discuss this over coffee." And just like that, the evil expression faded into a typical, serene smile. "How's eleven o' clock?"

* * *

Yukimura sipped his mug of hot chocolate. Fuji sat across from him, typing rapidly on his laptop, and the young tennis player had to admit, he was slightly annoyed. Fuji was the one who had invited him out to coffee, after all—wasn't he supposed to give Yukimura his undivided attention (and torture methods)?

So the blunette cleared his throat. "What have you got there, Fuji-kun?"

Fuji grinned and opened his icy blue eyes, and immediately, the temperature in the coffee shop dropped twenty degrees. "I'll show you." He turned the laptop over to Yukimura, who examined the screen's contents with a mildly surprised expression.

It was a picture of a rather revealing French maid's dress. According to the measurements on the side, the skirt was barely a foot long, and the neckline was unusually deep. The dress itself was covered with lace and ribbons, and a feather duster lay at the side to match the design.

Yukimura arched an eyebrow and glanced up at his friend.

"I designed it myself," Fuji said proudly. "And in just five minutes, too. I can make it more extravagant, if you like. I'm thinking pink and black with a touch a glitter."

For once, Yukimura was absolutely clueless. "What in the world are you talking about?"

Fuji waved dismissively. "Make Kirihara-kun wear this, of course. He stood you up, after all. He owes you a favor." He bared his teeth in an indulgent smile. "Send me pictures. He'd make a _wonderful _model."

"That's a fantastic idea, Fuji," Yukimura said dreamily. "Absolutely fantastic." Then he perked up. "You said something about modeling, didn't you?"

The ethereal young designer tilted his head to the side and replied, "I like the way you think."

* * *

Akaya hurried to the park. Yukimura had texted him moments ago, asking to meet him. Hell knew why, but Akaya could have cared less. His life had been pretty much ruined anyway; he doubted there was much else Yukimura could do.

What innocence.

"Ah, Akaya! You showed up this time."

Akaya's face turned ten shades of red in response. "I'm sorry, I…"

"I know," Yukimura assured. "Sanada told me what happened. He seems rather threatening, but he's a softie at heart. Really. Even though he slaps people and could probably kill you in two seconds flat, he's really quite sweet. He visits animal shelters with me and everything."

Akaya kind of doubted that, but knew better than to voice it. "I, uh, see. So was there a particular reason you called me here?"

"I just wanted to see you." Yukimura intentionally let his voice trail off, and plastered a sad, shy look on his face. "I—I wasn't sure you still liked me, given that you didn't show up the other day…" He glanced away, making sure his eyes were wide and distressed.

He simply _had _to thank his mother for all those acting lessons.

Meanwhile, Akaya was feeling positively guilty. "I'm so sorry, Yukimura. I didn't mean anything by it—I panicked, I guess, and—"

"Let's just forget about it," Yukimura said, smiling hopefully.

Really. Those were some damn good acting lessons.

"I really do feel bad about last time," Akaya said apologetically. "If there's any way I can make it up to you…"

He shouldn't have said that.

Oh, Akaya. Dear, naïve Akaya.

Yukimura's grin took a sadistic turn, but Akaya didn't notice. "There is a way, in fact." He reached for Akaya's curly hair and brushed it away from his face. "If you wouldn't mind…"

Akaya bit his lip. Don't scream, don't scream, don't scream. You're manlier than this, Akaya. "Of course not," he managed. "Anything."

"Anything," Yukimura repeated with a sly smile. "I like the sound of that. Come with me to the costume shop, then."

"Costume shop…?"

"Just meet me there. It's 341 Pine Street…"

Akaya hurried to copy the address down, and smiled weakly. "What business would you have at a costume shop, Yukimura?"

"My friend works there," Yukimura explained. "It's been such a long time since I've seen him last, and he's the most amazing designer and photographer. In fact, I've asked him to design a special something…"

Akaya didn't like the sound of that.

Well, to be honest, he didn't like the sound of anything that'd happened in the last week of his life, but it wasn't like he had much say in the matter anyway. "That sounds great, Yukimura," he said, trying his best to sound smooth. God, years of flirting experience and all of it goes down the freaking drain.

"Magnificent! See you at five." He slid into his limo and sped off, leaving Akaya in the dust.

Poor lass.

…I mean lad.

* * *

I know this is short, but I really don't have time to write more, and I didn't want to make you guys wait any more than I have to. I'm pretty sure you guys see what's coming next, but here's the **preview **anyway:

_Akaya stared at the bright lights and the white backdrop. A beautiful brunet sat, poised by the camera, and Yukimura smiled brightly. _

"_Put this on," he said, pushing a black clothes-bag into his hands. "The outfit is inside."_

"_I thought you were taking me to a costume shop," Akaya accused. _

"_It _is _a costume," Yukimura insisted. "Right, Fuji?" _

_The brunet smiled a smile equally brilliant. "I designed it myself." He revealed his blue eyes, daring Akaya to say more._

_Akaya frowned, but went to the changing room without further protest._


	6. How to Model

Akaya was feeling a tad disgruntled. It wasn't just that Yukimura was making him go to a costume shop, of all places.

No, it was that Yukimura was looking particularly excited. And that was never a good thing.

He peeked out the window and noticed that the neighborhood was full of expensive shops. _Must be a high class society, _Akaya mused. The limousine slowed in front of an extravagant looking boutique.

La Maison de Glace. It was a fairly small shop, though it appeared to have three floors, and was a strange mix of modern and old. The doors and walls were glass, the windows were edged with a cold iron, but the words were in an elegant cursive, and from what Akaya could tell, the inside of the shop had the look of a British castle. It was all in pastels—the doors had a light blue tinge, the carpets a soft white, and the glassy steps were a pale yellow.

Yukimura opened the door for him, and he stepped out tentatively. "Why are we here?"

Yukimura said nothing, simply leading the younger boy inside. There was the faint tinkle of chimes. The inside of the store was filled with soft classical music.

It was also filled with dresses, much to Akaya's dismay.

Blue dresses, black dresses, green dresses, red dresses… _pink _dresses. It was then that Akaya realized, _This looks a lot like my cousin's dollhouse._

This was bad.

"Fuji-kun?" Yukimura called.

A young, petite brunet walked toward them. He had a perpetual smile on his face. "Ah, Yukimura. And this…" He turned to Akaya, opening his pale blue eyes, "must be Kirihara Akaya." The corners of his lips rose in a sadistic grin, and Akaya suppressed the urge to shiver. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise," he said, trying to remain calm.

Why was he doing this again?

Oh, right. Because he had a nutcase for a boss.

Yukimura mimicked Fuji's smile. "You see, Aka-chan—"

Kirihara flinched at the nickname, and he could have _sworn _he heard Fuji snickering, just a little…

"—Fuji's releasing a new line of clothing, and he needs a model. We both agreed you'd be perfect. After all, you're the most feminine out of all of us, and you just _know _how much the public loves a feminine looking male…"

First, he was offended. _Feminine? Excuse me?_

Then, he was perplexed. Out of Fuji and Yukimura, _he _was the most feminine looking one? Really? That made no sense.

And finally, he was struck with a sense of horror. _I do not like where this is going._

"I'm sorry," he said, laughing nervously. "I can't model. I've never done anything like that, really. I'm going to have to decline…"

"Nonsense!" Fuji insisted, shoving him to some back room. "You're perfect for this role. I've got the perfect outfit for you, and you'll look simply _stunning._"

_Say no while you can. Come on, say it._

He opened his mouth to protest, but then caught Yukimura's eye. The tennis player was staring at him, sadly. "Please, Akaya?"

With a resigned sigh, Akaya followed Fuji into the backroom.

* * *

Akaya stared at the bright lights and the white backdrop. Fuji sat, poised by the camera, and Yukimura smiled brightly.

"Put this on," he said, pushing a black clothes-bag into his hands. "The outfit is inside."

"I thought you were taking me to a costume shop," Akaya accused.

"It _is _a costume," Yukimura insisted. "Right, Fuji?"

The brunet smiled a smile equally brilliant. "I designed it myself." He revealed his blue eyes, daring Akaya to say more.

Akaya frowned, but went to the changing room without further protest.

_God, what were they up to?_

The changing room was fairly large, with at least eight mirrors. There were three cushioned seats, and Akaya figured that Fuji was either ridiculously rich or ridiculously talented.

_Probably both, _he admitted, and opened the bag.

He was not prepared for what he saw.

For it was a dress.

It was a lacey, French-maid-esque dress.

With a very deep neckline.

_Very deep._

He'd been expecting some sort of stuffy suit, or leather pants at worst. Akaya squeaked (it was a very undignified moment for him) and threw the dress to the other side of the changing room.

"Is everything okay?" Yukimura called.

"This is a dress," he all but snarled, and stomped out of the changing room. "I'm not wearing this!"

"But you'd look so good in it," Fuji trilled. "I had it designed especially for you!"

"I'm _not _wearing this," Akaya snapped, and with a huff, made to leave the shop.

"Akaya, wait," Yukimura pleaded, and caught up with him. The reporter whipped around and stared at him. "I'm—I'm so sorry. I really did think it'd be fun. I-I mean, you said something about doing this with your cousin on our last date, and you were talking about how hilarious it was, and I…" He averted his eyes. "I just wanted to make you happy." Yukimura's eyes widened. "Because… I think I'm falling in love with you."

_Oh, helllnopleasesomeonesavemeNiou-sanI'mgoingtokillyou._

He could just _hear _his boss laughing. "You can't say no to that," he would be leering, and Akaya had no choice but to concur.

This wasn't fair.

And of course, he missed the triumphant gleam in Yukimura's eyes when he finally agreed.

* * *

His legs felt... bare.

Like, really bare.

It was with gritted teeth that he finally managed to put the dress back on (that is, without throwing up). And it was with gritted teeth that he posed, one after the other, as Fuji gave some very questionable instructions.

"Good, good! Now lean on that cube over there. Prop your head up with one arm… yes, that's right! Purse your lips… Good. Widen your eyes a bit, and lean forward."

_Purse my lips? Pout?_

_Widen my eyes?_

_Lean forward?_

He decided that models are either naturally slutty, or the bravest people on the face of the earth.

"Oh, Akaya-kun, darling, you look like you're having a seizure," Fuji scolded, clucking his tongue. "Try to look seductive, innocent. Goodness, haven't you ever seen a lingerie ad?"

_No, I haven't, thank you very much! _

"See, in a lingerie ad, you have to show off your curves. You mustn't hunch back, that simply won't do…"

"I'm a _guy,_" Akaya said tersely, resisting the urge to punch the delicate little photographer in the face.

"You certainly don't look like one at the moment," Yukimura sang. "Don't worry, dollface. _I _think you look delightful." He smiled a smile that looked way more like a smirk. "My, I think we'll have to dress you up like that later, when we get home…"

Akaya cringed.

"You remind me an awful lot of my last boyfriend," Fuji mused. "I'm bisexual, you see. And he was the most _beautiful _person in the world. Looked just like you."

"Did you two break up?" Akaya asked, trying to divert the attention from himself.

"Not quite," Fuji said, that smile ever-present. "He wanted to leave me for another boy. And I admit, that other boy was a darling. But I just couldn't let go of him. So I compromised."

"_You _compromised?"

"Ah," he acknowledged. "Well, he wanted to leave me. He wanted to abandon me forever. So I ate him."

". . ."

"I ate him," Fuji repeated, "and now we'll forever be together." He rubbed his stomach happily. "Saa, man and wife, joined forever."

Of course Akaya didn't believe that, but after spending ten minutes with the man, Fuji's explanation actually didn't seem that ridiculous…

"Like I said," Fuji continued, "you remind me a lot of him, Kirihara-kun." He licked his lips a little, and Akaya flinched. This was all too familiar.

"You know, the exact same thing happened to me, once," Yukimura said, thoughtfully. "His name was Echizen Ryoma, and he threatened to leave me for someone named Tezuka Kunimitsu." He shrugged. "So I locked him in the basement for two months. He was still alive when I let him out, of course."

"How surprising," Fuji replied. "My boyfriend was Tezuka Kunimitsu."

"What a coincidence!" Yukimura exclaimed, and they giggled like schoolgirls.

Akaya was mildly disturbed.

These people were _crazy. _

And he was crazy for agreeing to the stupid thing in the first place.

* * *

Now, I don't think models are sluts, so if you are one, don't be insulted. I'm a model too, and not all models have to do what Fuji's making Akaya do. I've never had to, and I really think that television dramatizes the life of a model way too much. We take photographs, we travel a bit, we walk the runway, and that's about it. Not every model has a scandal, a cheating boyfriend, and a perverted photographer. Seriously.

And of course, Fuji didn't eat Tezuka. It'll be explained in the next chapter (assuming I remember to include it). The **preview:**

"_He promised you a threesome," Marui repeated._

"_A foursome," Akaya corrected wearily. "Him, Sanada, and Fuji. Actually, he said it would technically be a fivesome, because Fuji ate his boyfriend and all…"_

"…_What?"_

"_A fivesome."_

"_Dude. You should _so _go."_


	7. How to Have a Fivesome

Yukimura and Fuji were back in the coffee shop, with Fuji sipping hot chocolate and Yukimura staring at him intently. The shop was quiet, but it was an amiable sort of silence—both were remembering the horrified expression on Akaya's face when he walked out of the dressing room.

As if stealing the thought from Yukimura's head, Fuji said, "Remember Akaya's face when he came out of the closet?" He grinned. "Pun intended."

Yukimura laughed. "As a matter of fact, I do. It was amusing, wasn't it? Though I think you took it a step too far when you starting talking about how you ate Tezuka."

"Surely _you _know I didn't eat Tezuka."

"Of course." Yukimura waved the silly thought away. "I saw him only two days ago. But I don't think Akaya believed you. You don't look like a cannibal."

"Oh I wasn't going for that," Fuji assured. "That is, the cannibal image doesn't suit me. I was going for more of a psycho-just-escaped-the-mental-institution thing. And maybe a said-psycho-may-or-may-not-believe-he's-a-cannibal too."

Yukimura nodded. "I'd say you achieved that rather well."

Fuji smiled. "I know. But now that the photo shoot is over…"

"It's hardly a bad thing. If you ask me, it was quite entertaining."

"It was, but now it's _over. _What do we do next?"

"We?" Yukimura repeated, amused.

"Well, yes. It's been such a long time since I've had the chance to mess with anyone's head. You're not going to deny me the opportunity, are you?"

"I wouldn't dream of it." A bored Fuji was a dangerous Fuji, and usually that could be seen through his designs. A happy Fuji involved elegant, tasteful designs, and often his face on the cover of a fashion magazine. A bored Fuji involved gothic gowns, with attached pockets for hiding knives, guns, and poison. Boots were steel-toed and studded, and his shop took on the look of a haunted house—hence, a dangerous Fuji.

Dangerous Fuji also liked to mess with people's personal lives, and Yukimura would rather oversee his meddling than let it slip by him, unknown.

The two of them thought intently for a moment. Nothing came to mind, and Fuji reached for his hot chocolate again. Then, with a jolt, he placed it down.

Yukimura tilted his head to the side to prompt him.

Fuji's blue eyes flashed open. Yukimura had seen that look before.

Sometimes, Fuji's sanity ran away with his kindness (what little he had) and abandoned him for any period of time—from three seconds to three years. (Yuuta was still very mind-scarred.) This was one of those instances.

So in a way, Yukimura had expected it when Fuji said, "Threesome?"

* * *

Akaya fell face-first on the bed, while Marui watched with a faintly amused smile. "What happened this time?"

"You heard it during work," was the muffled reply. "Don't make me repeat it."

"Well, you screaming 'What the hell do you mean by a foursome?' doesn't really tell me a whole lot." Marui pointed out. "I mean, 'foursome' isn't even a word."

Akaya sat up and gave him a pointed look. "What, your _amazing genius _and _supreme talent in tennis _can't figure it out?"

"It can," he admitted, "but I just want to hear you say it."

Akaya grimaced. "I give up."

". . .So are you gonna tell me or not?"

"Yukimura Seiichi wants to have a threesome."

"He promised you a threesome," Marui repeated.

"Wait, no, a foursome," Akaya corrected wearily. "Him, Sanada, and Fuji. Actually, he said it would technically be a fivesome, because Fuji ate his boyfriend and all…"

"…What?"

"A fivesome."

"Dude. You should_ so_ go."

He glared. "First of all, _no." _He paused. "That's it."

"Don't you still need to take embarrassing photos of Yukimura? You know Niou's not going to let you off 'till you do, right? I bet Yukimura has, like, twenty blackmail-worthy photos of you now." He cackled. "I can't wait to see that photo shoot you had…"

"I am not having a fivesome," he said flatly.

* * *

"Ready for our fivesome?" Yukimura trilled, opening the door to his mansion. Akaya feigned a smile and nodded.

"I'm sure it'll be an interesting experience," he said stiffly.

_Okay, so when I get in, I just run to the bathroom and say I have to change, and then I climb out the window and run home. Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay._

To Akaya's surprise, the room was filled with mini-celebrities.

"Hey, Eiji! Don't eat that!"

"But Oishi, it looks _really _chocolatey…"

"Echizen, you're such a rock."

"You sounded endearing, Saeki…"

"Why do you sound endearing? Why is this house so big? Why is Eiji trying to eat a bookshelf? Why? Why?"

"Fuji, what is the meaning of this?"

"Saa, didn't I eat you, Tezuka?"

". . . Excuse me?"

"Ore-sama demands a room separate from all these hooligans!"

"Sheesh, Atobe, why do you always have such a stick up your—"

"Shishido-san!"

"Eh? Akaya-kun?"

Akaya's head shot up. "Yagyuu-san? What're you doing here?"

A redhead with bright blue eyes bounced up to him. "You know Yagyuu, too? Hi, I'm Eiji. See, I just _had _to come because it's been forever since I've hung out with Fuji, so of course I invited Oishi, and Oishi didn't want anyone to feel left out so he invited O'chibi and the rest of the group. And Fuji wanted to invite Yuuta-chan, but Yuuta refused, and then Saeki heard about it so he came, too, and invited his colleagues, and somehow Atobe heard about it and once he was coming, he invited his friends too, although Choutaro-chan probably just came to make sure Shishido didn't kill anybody. Choutaro's the only one I can stand, because he's so nice and he's good at tennis and he could totally make it in the pro circuits, like me and Oishi and Sanada-chan and Yukimura-chan and everybody, but he'd rather do office work which is really weird because. . ."

Akaya watched Eiji ramble, feeling slightly nauseated.

"You don't mind, do you?" Yukimura's soft voice interrupted his reverie. "I couldn't turn all my friends down. You understand, don't you?"

_No not really and I think you're really freaky for making me come here and can all these people even fit on a bed, damn it? _"Um."

"It's a twenty-threesome now," Yukimura continued. "Which is really only eighteen more than we originally planned, right?"

Fuji walked over to him, eyes shining. "I don't think everybody can fit on a bed," he said, echoing Akaya's thoughts. "Maybe we should try the floor, instead."

"Oh, aren't they having a World's Biggest Bed exhibit downtown? Maybe we can talk the manager into letting us borrow it. It should be more than big enough."

"Don't worry, Yukimura. Let me do it, instead. The manager owes me a favor."

"Oh?"

"Yes. A few months ago, he got lost in a jungle and . . ."

Akaya didn't bother to listen to the rest of the conversation.

* * *

Sorry about the really late update. I got sidetracked with _Russian Roulette, _and writing the second chapter is taking me forever. This scene will be continued next week, because it doesn't quite end there, but it'd be really rushed if I tried to put it in this chapter, so yeah. **Preview: **

"_What do you mean? I got the damn photos already, didn't I?"_

"_Language, Aka-chan. You're in too deep now, don't you see? Hey, I don't care if you ditch it now; I just needed the photos. But wouldn't you be breaking Yukimura's darling little heart if you left him?"_

_He could just hear the mockery in his boss's voice, and hated him—not for the first time—for being right. "Yeah, well…"_

"_Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"_

"_You don't want to know."_


	8. How to Be an Idiot

Okay, I know I need to update _Russian Roulette _and about a billion other things, but I'm awfully busy with school, and I'm not even done with the next chapter, so I'm kind of screwed at the moment. If I haven't replied to your review yet, I'm really sorry; I promise I'll get to it as soon as I can.

* * *

Fortunately, the manager was a bit horrified by the idea of a twenty-threesome on his magnificent work of art, and Yukimura was forced to think of another alternative.

His guests appeared to be more than entertained, however. Fuji, for example, was laughing maniacally and searching up various poisons and acids on the laptop that appeared to be attached to his hip.

Tezuka sat, more than a little frustrated. "Fuji, what in the world are you doing?"

"I'm planning my revenge on the manager," came the cheery reply. "Although, I can't decide between cyanide poisoning or hydrochloric acid poisoning. The hydrochloric acid is so much more painful, which is why I'd prefer it, but cyanide seems more classy, in a way. What do you think?"

"I think you should stop trying to kill people," Tezuka said bluntly.

In another corner of the room, Atobe Keigo was sipping red wine while listening to Gakuto complain.

". . . And he just _had _to buy me a cat decorated mug instead of a dog decorated mug. I mean, I like dogs better, isn't that totally obvious? Cats remind me of that horrible Kikumaru Eiji, and I don't get why people think cats represent him anyway, because cats are stretchy and bendy, but he's not half as good as _I _am at acrobatics—do you see him doing a moonsault? No, it's always me! It's stupid that people think he's even close to being on the same level as me, because . . ."

"Shut up, Gakuto."

Before Gakuto could come at him with a flurry of colorful swear words, Choutaro hurriedly pulled Shishido away. "Ah, Shishido-san, let's go try the sushi."

And of course, Akaya was busy interrogating Yagyuu. "Uh, what exactly are you doing here?"

"Yukimura and I went to the same university. We were roommates for a while, in fact. Niou-kun was supposed to come too, but he said he was feeling lazy." Yagyuu would have rolled his eyes, had it not been an un-gentlemanly gesture. "In fact, he's quite close with Yukimura as well."

Akaya peered at him suspiciously. "Is he, now? Then why did he send me on this stupid mission?"

Yagyuu smiled and lied easily, "I have no idea what you're talking about." Akaya wasn't fooled.

"But if I did know," Yagyuu continued, "I'd say Niou probably did it for his own entertainment. Except I don't know."

"For someone famous for pulling off a switch with Niou-san in high school, you're a really bad liar," Akaya commented, frowning. "No offense."

"Or maybe I'm bad at telling the truth. Who knows?" Just then, his cell phone rang. "I apologize, Kirihara-kun. This is one of my business associates. Enjoy the party." With that, he drifted off to an isolated corner of the room, talking about percentages and decimals and other mathematical things that Akaya didn't want to think about.

But Yagyuu had left him with a valuable bit of information.

Niou and Yukimura were _friends._

Why in the world would he want Akaya to take scandalous photos of him, then? Although, Yagyuu had summed it up very well—his own entertainment, no doubt.

What a—!

Although, it _was _rather ingenious of him.

* * *

"So he did it on purpose." Marui seemed extremely amused. "I love that guy. Do you know how many laughs I got out of this?"

"He did it for entertainment!" Akaya fumed. "I can't believe this! What if I actually got photos, and they got published or something? Then Yukimura would kill him and . . ." He trailed off. "Maybe I should try that."

"Don't. It's suicide."

"But he wouldn't have an excuse! I'd say that I worked so hard to take those photos that he just has to publish them, and then it'd all be worth it."

"Niou's not as stupid as you are," Marui snorted. "Don't risk anything. Isn't he practically giving you the company when he retires?" He nodded to himself, answering his own question. "See, because I'm such a genius, you should listen to my genius advice and maybe some of my genius will rub off on you because I'm such a genius, and . . ."

But Akaya had already run off, taking his cell phone with him.

Niou picked up after the first ring. "What's up, brat?"

It never ceased to amaze him how Niou managed to sound so authoritative while drawling like a drunk.

"I got the photos. Took them at the twenty-threesome today." He paused for the inevitable burst of laughter. "In fact, I heard you were invited."

Instead of being surprised, however, Niou seemed more mirthful than anything. "I was. But you know, work and all that." Akaya resisted the urge to scoff. The only thing Niou really did at work was boss people around and find excuses to scar employees for life. He'd have a fine time working with Yagyuu. "How'd you like the party? That Yukimura's some party-thrower, eh?"

"Sure is," Akaya said tightly. "So what's my next job? Since I've gotten the photos, and all."

"What're you talking about?"

"The job's _over. _I took the stupid photos and now it's done with."

"Not so fast, brat. There's something else."

"What do you mean? I got the damn photos already, didn't I?"

"Language, Aka-chan. You're in too deep now, don't you see? Hey, I don't care if you ditch it now; I just needed the photos. But wouldn't you be breaking Yukimura's darling little heart if you left him?"

Akaya cringed at the thought. Yukimura's heart wouldn't necessarily be broken, but something told him that Akaya's neck might be, instead. His mind flashed back to the threat Sanada had given him—the threat that ultimately resulted in the photo-shoot, the acquaintance with Fuji, and the horrific not-quite-twenty-threesome that followed after.

He could just hear the mockery in his boss's voice, and hated him—not for the first time—for being right. "Yeah, well…"

"Besides, what's the worst that could happen?"

"You don't want to know."

"I do, actually." Niou was definitely leaning back in his chair and grinning; his voice always rose a few notches when he did that.

"Of course you do," Akaya grumbled. "Has it ever occurred to you that I don't want to kill myself?"

"Of course you do," Niou said frivolously. "Otherwise you wouldn't be working for me. How bad can it be? You're helping a friend out, no?" Akaya couldn't tell if he meant himself or Yukimura, but decided that it sucked for him either way.

"This is just like that time you got me to pretend I was lost at the mall so you could flirt with the security woman."

Niou openly laughed this time. "Come on, that wasn't so bad. I got a hot date, you got a hot pretzel. Win-win situation, right?"

"I was _seventeen_! Getting lost at that age means you're either mentally challenged or you have a really sadistic boss."

"Both of which apply to you," Niou said dismissively. "So everything adds up." Before Akaya could start ranting, he added, "Yukimura texted me a few hours ago and asked about seeing you again. Did you tell him you were moving to Antarctica?"

"I said a _city _in Antarctica."

"Antarctica has no cities. Next time you lie, make it more believable, or people will think I'm a bad mentor or something."

"You _are._"

"Not the point," Niou sang. "Sanada, Yagyuu, Yukimura and everybody else are going to the next tennis game. It's by the Tokyo Stadium; you want to come? Bring Marui, okay?"

"Wait, I don't want to go!"

"Yes, you do." There was a hint of menace in his voice now, and Akaya sulked.

"Why'd you ask if you don't care what I think?"

"It makes it seem more polite."

Like hell.

But Niou hung up before Akaya could reply. Marui barged inside, then. "You know there's no point in locking yourself in a room when I know how to pick locks, right?"

"No, you don't."

"I learned how yesterday," he said with a shrug. "Anyway, I could hear you screaming from outside. Niou told me about the tennis thing yesterday. Won't it be _fun?_" He wagged his eyebrows suggestively. "You get to sit next to your hot boyfriend, I get to sit next to his hot fan girls . . ."

"Don't even mention the B-word right now," Akaya ordered, frowning. "Just don't."

"You know, you could just kind of erase this entire chapter from your life. Just kind of forget about the whole thing."

Akaya blinked. That actually wasn't a bad idea.

Pretending to be gay? What?

Who's Yukimura Seiichi?

What are you talking about?

What the hell are _you _on?

That wasn't a bad idea at all.

"Or," Marui continued, "you could keep playing charades and turn this into a game of stamina. Niou's a pretty powerful guy. I doubt you could beat him in something like this, anyway." He chuckled at the possibility.

He did _not _notice Akaya's suddenly determined glare. "Yeah," the reporter was saying, slowly. "Yeah, let's go with that."

* * *

Marui fixed Akaya with a long stare, then looked him over from head to toe, and up again. He nodded. "It's official," he said seriously. "You're an idiot."

Akaya was wearing a tight black tank top and leather pants. Pointed boots completed the look, and even he had to admit, the look made him look a bit like a cowboy. Literally.

"You do know Yukimura's going to be there, right?" Marui asked. "And he may or may not rape you after seeing you like this."

Akaya simply smiled smugly. He was going to win Niou's little game.

Marui, however, seemed a bit worried, and placed a hand on Akaya's forehead. He drew back, frowning. "You don't have a fever. Maybe food poisoning, then."

He scowled. "You were the one who suggested this. Beating Niou at his own game, remember?

There was a lengthy pause, then Marui blurted, "You thought I was serious?"

"You weren't?" Akaya shrugged. "I'm already into it now, so there's no point in stopping, right?"

"Wrong," he replied firmly. "You are going to kill yourself, and even though it's going to be hilarious for me to watch, I'd prefer watching you humiliate yourself mildly over a long period of time."

"You're a bad colleague."

"I'm watching out for you," Marui insisted, but brought a camera along, just in case.

* * *

I got my iPhone confiscated for the first time ever! Yay! The **preview**'s very short this time:

"_So what do you suggest, Fuji?" Yukimura smiled at the brunette. "Sanada's offered to assist me in this one, so we've got to include him in it too."_

"_I think we should make this big. The biggest yet." Fuji paused dramatically. "I suggest . . ."_


	9. How to Get Engaged

Okay, so basically this chapter is, like, a month overdue (over a month, actually) and short, and I'm really, _really _sorry. But there's going to be a pretty big shocker in this one, so maybe that'll be enough to forgive me. Maybe? Possibly?

* * *

"Yukimura," Fuji said, smiling sweetly. His voice held a tinge of amusement as he added, "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

Yukimura looked at him in surprise. "Why, it was your idea, wasn't it?"

"Yes, but . . . it's a rather _big _deal," Fuji admitted. "I admit I would take great pleasure in watching Kirihara-kun die of embarrassment, but are you sure you're ready for something like this?"

"No need to treat me like a ten year old virgin," Yukimura replied easily. "It'll be great fun for us, and we both know that it won't last forever. I can break it just as soon as I create it."

"What if he falls for you?"

"Unlikely."

"What if you fall for him?"

"Even unlikelier."

"You could ruin his life," Fuji pointed out.

"Not necessarily, not if I plan this right. He'll get attention, I'll say it was an unfortunate occurrence. The worst thing that could possibly happen would happen to _me, _so I don't see anything wrong with it."

"What if he . . ." Fuji made a vague gesture.

"Oh, yes. There's always that possibility. But he won't—I'll put him in a situation that requires everything to work in my favor."

Fuji smiled. "I'll help."

"I know." Yukimura returned the smile. "I can always depend on you to help me embarrass and frighten people out of their wits, Fuji."

Fuji's smile widened to the point it was frightening. "I know," he said in a very aw-shucks kind of way, and not at all modest.

* * *

Akaya took a deep breath before entering the stadium, and gave a brief wave to Yukimura.

"Akaya, you showed!" Yukimura exclaimed, looking positively delighted in that strange mix of sadistic and endearing. He eyed the outfit, took it all into stride and smiled brightly.

Marui snorted and sat next to Akaya, who seemed to be regretting his choice of attire. "Having fun yet?" the redhead asked, popping a piece of green apple gum into his mouth. He nodded coolly at Yagyuu. "I'm sorry you have to put up with Niou."

Yagyuu smiled slowly. "He's not _that _bad," he began, then paused when Marui and Akaya both gave him The Look ™. "Okay," he admitted, "but you get used to it after a while."

"What're you talking about?" Yukimura asked curiously, and instantly Marui and Akaya recoiled, bouncing back in their seats and waving their arms in a don't-look-at-me-I'm-totally-not-talking-about-my-evil-boss kind of way. "Oh, hush, the tennis game is starting!"

It was Echizen Ryoma against Tezuka Kunimitsu, and Akaya recognized them both at once—they'd both been present at the twenty-threesome. He cringed thinking about it, and sank lower in his seat as a reflex.

The match started with a Twist Serve, then Tezuka instantly pulled out the Tezuka Zone, and then a Drive B, then a Tezuka Phantom, then a bunch of other moves that Akaya couldn't be bothered to remember.

Sanada and Yukimura were talking tennis by then. "That's a good volley."

"He should have reached a bit higher; could've gone for a smash."

"The drop shot works better."

"Yes, but . . ."

"You're forgetting that Echizen has the Higuma Otoshi."

"I'm taking that into account, but don't you think that with a Higuma Otoshi, Tezuka could go for another smash? Echizen wouldn't have enough time to get back into position, and—"

"It's too wasteful of energy. You know those two; they're going to have a long, drawn out match."

"Or he could end it quickly."

"He could end it quickly with a drop shot!"

"That's not what I meant . . ."

"Do you know what they're talking about?" Marui whispered.

"I shouldn't have worn this outfit," Akaya moaned, shifting in his seat. "It's uncomfortable and people are staring."

Marui rolled his eyes. "Well, it was _your _idea, smart one. I tried to talk you out of it, but no, you didn't listen to your wiser, older, more handsome, more talented superior. Even though I'm a genius and awesome and—"

"And heartless," Akaya protested. "You brought a _camera._"

"It's for the greater good," he said seriously, and snapped a quick picture.

Akaya covered his face with his hands a moment too late, and tried to get the light from his eyes. "I think you blinded me."

"That's why it's for the greater good," Marui laughed, and put the camera away again.

"Shh," Yagyuu scolded, turning away from the game for a second. "One isn't meant to speak during a tennis match. Stay quiet."

Akaya took that opportunity to look around. Sure enough, everybody was staring at the pair of them, him and Marui. They were the only people talking above a whisper, the only people relaxed and lazy while everybody was else, on the edge of their seats, rooting silently for their preferred athlete.

They were also the only set of people not wearing tennis whites.

Everybody else had on something white, or at least beige. Akaya's face flushed. He was wearing what might as well have been a raver's outfit, and Marui was wearing a colorful tee shirt and shorts. _Besides, _he thought in mild annoyance, _his hair's bright enough to draw the attention of anybody within two miles. _They looked like two lunatics in an ocean of white, and Akaya smacked himself mentally for not noticing it sooner.

Marui noticed the stare and frowned. "What's wrong?"

"Shh," Akaya said, feeling an odd sense of dejavu. "Look around. We look retarded."

Marui obeyed, and his violet eyes widened in a mixture of amusement and embarrassment. "Wow," he replied cheerily. "We sure look like idiots, don't we?"

Akaya stared at him for a long moment, then sputtered, "How can you just _say _that? We're sitting with Yukimura and Sanada and Yagyuu, a bunch of celebrities, and we look like morons!"

"I know, it's great!"

"What—I—okay, no. No. Just . . . no." Akaya frowned at him and turned away, huffing. Marui shrugged, and went back to staring at the tennis match.

"Tiebreaker," Sanada murmured. His eyes narrowed appreciatively. "This has been a very good match. I think Tezuka has thirty-three wins at the moment, and Echizen has thirty-two. If Echizen wins this, they'll be tied."

"He might," Yagyuu commented. "He's been training especially for this match."

"And Echizen has been rather wrought up over his last loss to Tezuka," Sanada agreed/

There were a few rallies, and suddenly Echizen was several points ahead. Then a smash, and Echizen won the match.

There was polite clapping, a few cheers from especially rabid fans, and the match came to a conclusion.

Just as everybody was about to leave, however, a young man suddenly ran up to the courts. Akaya stared in confusion, then realized it was Atobe Keigo, the head of Atobe Corp, holding a microphone in his hand and smirking rather confidently. "Everyone! Wait a moment."

The simple sound of his voice made dozens of girls squeal in delight, and needless to say, everybody paused.

He raised a hand and snapped his fingers to ensure silence, then declared, "I have a very special announcement to make, regarding one of my dearest friends."

It was then that Akaya realized Yukimura had disappeared from his seat.

It was then that Akaya realized Sanada seemed extremely worried and exasperated.

It was then that Akaya realized Yagyuu was uncharacteristically smirking.

It was then that Akaya saw his own face reflected on a screen, the one that had showed Echizen and Sanada playing tennis only minutes ago.

It was then that Atobe Keigo handed the microphone to Yukimura. It was then that Yukimura burst into a fancy speech about how he'd only known Akaya for a short time, but had fallen oh-so-madly in love with him and wouldn't he please marry him, for he couldn't bear to live without him, and don't you feel the same way, Akaya?

It was then that all eyes turned to him.

It was then that Akaya heard a small voice that sounded suspiciously like Niou's, chanting, "_I told you so, I told you so, I told you so._" And he was doing the cha-cha for good measure.

It didn't help that Marui was doing the exact same thing. Out loud.

And he was _really _bad at the cha-cha.

There were a few giggles, and quite a lot of pointing. Yukimura was smiling up at him hopefully. Sanada ushered Akaya down the stadium and onto the courts, where Yukimura gave him a look that was all rainbows and sunshine, and dropped to one knee.

_Holy-crap-please-tell-me-this-isn't-happening-Kami-sama-save-me-now—_

"Akaya, will you marry me?"

Slowly, making sure to enunciate every word clearly, Akaya said, "I'm _nineteen._"

"And I'm twenty," Yukimura replied brightly, like that was totally the point.

Akaya really, sincerely wanted to ask, _What the hell? _But he couldn't, not with an entire stadium of people watching him, expecting him to say yes . . .

Oh.

_Oh. _

Of course. How had he not seen it before?

Yukimura did this on purpose, the annoyingly smart, too sly for his own good, clearly takes after Niou, or Niou takes after him, or something to that effect, and what did he want to say again?

"Akaya? Marry me?"

Marui was urging him on now, cheering silently—and laughing not so silently. Sanada seemed exasperated, as did Yagyuu, though the latter seemed more amused than exasperated. Atobe watched expectantly, sadistically, and Yukimura smiled up at him, as hopeful as ever.

He couldn't very well say no.

Well, he could, but it'd be the death of him, what with two thousand Yukimura fan girls in the stadium.

Maybe he could just break it off, quietly, later . . .

He contemplated silently. Did he want to risk the humiliation of saying yes? It might be worth it in the long run, but there was the risk of never leaving the stadium alive. He nodded his head to himself. No, that wouldn't be a good idea.

Yukimura's eyes brightened. "That's a yes! You said yes!"

Akaya was jolted out of his thoughts. "Wait, what?" he asked, panicking. "No, I . . ."

"He said yes!" Yukimura exclaimed, and Atobe grabbed the microphone, announcing it to what may as well have been the world.

The stadium erupted into cheers, a few catcalls, a lot of laughing (Thanks, Marui, for being such a supportive friend. Really.), and even some tears.

"Congratulations," Atobe declared. "Ore-sama has deemed your relationship worthy of my approval, and so you have my blessing to get married."

If Akaya had bothered to glance at Atobe and Yukimura, he might have noticed the sadistic glance the two of them shared, but as it was, Akaya was staring at the crowd in horror.

Yukimura turned to him and beamed. "We'll be husband and wife, you and me!" he said happily. He paused. "Respectively," he added. "Like, you're the wife." Like he needed further clarification.

Akaya fought the urge to bite someone's head off.

* * *

. . . Told you so. :)


	10. How to Design Clothing

So, it's kind of short, I know. But it's been a while since I updated, and I didn't want to make everyone wait too long. I have finals, like, _really _soon, so chances are, there'll be minimal updates until around the end of January. Maybe on the twenty-ninth, or something, when finals week is over, but until then, probably not. Oh! But I do have the next chapter of _Romeo and Juliet _written, and while it's still in the editing stages, I'll have it out sometime in the next two weeks.

With that said, enjoy.

* * *

Akaya woke to the sound of some very annoying ringing in his ear.

It was the sound of Marui talking.

"And I was thinking we'd put Akaya in a fluffy white dress," Marui was rambling. "Like, Yukimura gets this cool, sleek black suit, right? And Akaya gets the signature white wedding dress with the ruffles and stuff. And a sparkly veil. Definitely a sparkly veil."

Akaya moaned and pulled the covers over his head.

A pause. "Oh, that's a _great _idea! I would never have thought of that myself! Yes, it's perfect! A tight fitting leather dress with a whip and fishnet tights—"

Akaya sat up and glared at Marui, who grinned and flipped him off. "Look who woke up! The bride-to-be! The girliest of them all! The uke of the—"

Akaya grabbed the phone and tossed it out the window, ignoring the crash that resounded below.

"Aw," Marui complained, "that was Fuji! He's going to think I hung up on him and then he'll kill me. Five different ways. With his bare hands."

"First of all," Akaya snapped, "Fuji doesn't kill people with his bare hands. He uses poison. Second of all, _why _are you talking to him?"

Marui grinned. "Because your friends are freaking awesome! You never introduced me—Sanada's cool, Yagyuu's cool, Yukimura's cool, Fuji's amazing, and Oshitari and Echizen and Tezuka and Mukahi and Shishido and Choutaro—they're all really cool! I wish you introduced me. But I met them yesterday at the pre-engagement party." He snickered. "And they're all really awesome. We're going out for coffee in an hour."

Akaya contemplated killing him, and decided to settle for throwing his burning hot coffee in his face.

Marui dodged with expertise. "I figured out how to avoid that ages ago," he taunted. "Sidestep, jump back, quick twist and backflip. Foolproof, Akaya. Foolproof."

Akaya took a deep breath and fell backwards on his bed. "You're a moron," he said matter-of-factly, staring at the ceiling. "You're the biggest moron I've ever met and I hate you so, so much, even though you're older than me."

Marui shrugged. "I'm not going to fight back," he replied easily. "You're marrying my _idol_! You better get over your homophobia fast, 'cause if you break up with this guy, I'm going to be the one to kill you in five different ways with my bare hands."

"Since when is he your idol?"

"Since he learned to make your life miserable, obviously. Even I'm not as good as he is at ruining your life! This guy's amazing!" Marui pointed a finger at him. "You know, you should never have agreed to this whole thing in the first place. You know better than to agree to anything Niou suggests."

"Shiny packaging," Akaya explained ruefully.

In fifth grade, Akaya's goal for the future was to be a ninja.

In eighth grade, his goal was to be a professional tennis player.

Upon graduating high school, his goal was to enter the world of reporting.

Never, not once, _ever, _did his goal for the future say: I want to marry a gay man with scary friends when I grow up even though I have homophobia and I want to room with someone who's very fixated on ruining my life.

Someone up there was being very unkind.

* * *

Yukimura hummed happily. Sanada sat beside him, reading a book and talking quietly to Yagyuu, who was watching the tennis match. Fuji was typing away in the background. "Say, Yukimura," he said thoughtfully, "have you made any wedding plans yet?"

"Not one," Yukimura replied regretfully, and turned back to the tennis game he'd been watching. Tezuka had just revealed a new trademark move—Tezuka Phantom, was it?—but it'd be no threat to him. Yukimura smiled at the thought. "Echizen's such a stubborn brat. He made Tezuka go all the way to the other side of the city so they could play a match. I don't see what he's trying to prove."

Fuji smiled serenely. "Really. He's such a child; either he wins, or he loses. Either way, the tide changes with each match. There's nothing consistent, and he knows it."

"Such a child," Yukimura agreed, and sighed. "You know, that Ryuzaki girl likes him. A girl from Akaya's office—I believe she's a reporter, too. They'd make such an adorable couple. Ryuzaki is a very pretty girl."

"Aren't you worried about her stealing Akaya away?" Fuji teased. "Akaya's quite handsome, himself."

Yukimura waved the thought away. "Of course not. Akaya's a very faithful person," he said mirthfully. "You know, it amazes me how well he's kept up the act. Did you know he has homophobia?"

Sanada rolled his eyes and Yagyuu chuckled.

"Does he, now?" Fuji looked astonished, but only for a moment. "Say, have you gotten to third ba—"

"No," Yukimura interrupted. "And I don't intend to. Please, Fuji, don't put that thought in my mind."

Fuji giggled, a rather disturbingly girlish giggle. "Fine, fine. But you know, you shouldn't avoid it for too long. Hitting on him, I mean. It could really work to your advantage."

The tennis game suddenly seemed much less interesting than what Fuji was suggesting.

He was offering torture devices.

Torture methods.

_Torture methods. _

Yes, that had to be repeated and italicized.

Because they're _torture methods. _

And everybody knew that Fuji Syusuke was the king of _torture methods. _

_Torture methods. _

Go on. Say it again.

Yukimura leaned forward and smiled brightly. "Elaborate."

Fuji looked up from his typing. "Well, you know he's homophobic. And he seems awfully uncomfortable around you; what better way to mentally scar him than to . . . do things?"

Yukimura's smile widened. "That's a very good idea, but unfortunately, I'm not very learned in the art of gay sex."

Sanada choked on air, while Yagyuu tried in vain to revive him. Yukimura paid neither of them any attention.

Fuji leaned over Sanada's suffocating body and smiled. "I am," he grinned, and folded his hands neatly in his lap.

Sanada choked again—his face was turning white.

_That's really not a good look for him, _Yukimura thought. _He looks better in primary colors._

"Would you teach me?" Yukimura asked aloud.

Fuji's grin widened by a fraction; Yukimura Seiichi rarely asked for help, and Fuji knew better than to put salt on a wound—especially if it was Yukimura. "But of course," he replied easily. "You know I'd never pass up such an opportunity. The twenty-threesome obviously didn't scare him enough—why? Because there was nothing _concrete. _We have to actually carry out with things this time." He leaned back and turned back to his typing. "It'll be lovely."

"And I'll need to prepare for the honeymoon, anyway," Yukimura said thoughtfully.

Sanada was all but dying, and his face was now a very colorful shade of purple.

* * *

"The _what?_" Akaya demanded, astonished. "No! Just . . . _no!_"

"But all couples have a honeymoon," Marui whined. "Let me plan it for you. Fuji and I were talking it over earlier, and we decided you'd look awesome in this." He held up a piece of fabric.

It was black.

And lacey.

"I'm not wearing a lace shirt or whatever," Akaya snarled. "And put that thing away before it burns my eyes."

Marui shrugged and stuffed it into his pants pocket. "Who said anything about a shirt? Fuji and I designed it already, anyway. Here."

He shoved a laptop in Akaya's face, and it took a few moments for the reporter to process what was on the webpage.

As a matter of fact, there wasn't very much of anything on the webpage.

Only one article of clothing.

It was black.

It was lacey.

It was triangular.

Akaya yelped and jumped back after five seconds of staring. "That's a _thong,_" he sputtered. "I'm not wearing a freaking _thong,_ you psycho!"

Marui tossed his head back and laughed. "It's okay," he promised. "There'll be some stuff to cover it up. We're thinking leather," he added thoughtfully. "Maybe red leather. Yukimura likes the color red. And sky blue. We should do a mixture of both, although sky blue's a bit mild."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know. On a honeymoon," Marui elaborated, poking him in the ribs.

Akaya just looked lost.

Marui gave an exaggerated sigh. "Honeymoon. Lovers. Honeymoon suite. Lovers _in _a honeymoon suite."

Still nothing.

Marui explained, "Hot animal sex."

Akaya burst into another sputtering fit. "What—I—_no!_ That is not happening!"

Marui seemed disappointed for a few moments, then contemplative, and asked, "Then, chipmunk sex?"

"What is wrong with you?" Akaya demanded, punching him in the arm and shoving him against a wall.

Marui grinned. "Just like that! 'Cept when you push him against a wall, be a little gentler, because apparently, Yukimura's a very delicate person."

Akaya turned a bright shade of red upon realizing how Marui was interpreting the whole thing, and darted a good ten feet away from him. "I'm not gay," he enunciated.

Marui shrugged. "Who knows? I wouldn't blame you for turning gay. Yukimura's enough to turn _anyone _gay."

"You're an idiot," Akaya said seriously.

Marui grinned. "You didn't deny it!" he sang.

"You're stupid and I hate you."

"I love you," Marui replied easily, and gave Akaya a bone-crushing hug. "I don't know what in the world Yukimura sees in you, but you're like a little brother to me. I have to put up with you no matter how much you annoy me."

Akaya honestly, sincerely, and not-so-briefly considered setting Marui's room on fire.

* * *

Yukimura was shopping.

Let's rephrase that.

Yukimura was shopping with Fuji.

For . . . items.

Yeah.

"Where would you buy these things?" Yukimura murmured. "Do they really have shops specifically for these?"

"Of course," Fuji replied, sounding surprised. "They have quite a wide selection, as a matter of fact. It's all quite lovely."

Yukimura frowned. "There aren't any paparazzi here, are there? The last thing I want is to ruin the surprise for Aka-chan."

Fuji laughed. "No, there aren't. And you needn't call him Aka-chan; he's not here, remember?"

Yukimura smiled ruefully. "It's become somewhat of a habit, I suppose."

"He's a handsome boy," Fuji mused. "I'd go for him myself, but I'm just not ready for a relationship right now. My last lover broke my heart." He faked tears and put a hand on his heart. "It's just so painful to remember," he murmured, pretending to cry. "I can't even begin to start—oh, how he made such promises. And I believed them all, you see. All of them, every single one! A fool—that's what I was, a fool!" Like flipping over a card, he put on his brightest smile and said, "That's why I had to eat him. You understand, don't you? I had to eat him—I couldn't have lived otherwise. He's done irreversible damage to me, and I just had to eat him."

Fuji paused. "He tasted like oranges."

Yukimura burst into laughter. "You can make the most fantastic things sound incredibly realistic," he commented, still chuckling. "You should've been an actor, Fuji."

"I've actually signed on with a talent agency," Fuji replied cheerfully. "Only because the movie they want me to be in has a wonderful plot. I'll tell you all about it later."

"But back to the problem at hand," Yukimura said, looking around. There were many buildings, but they all seemed boring, so awfully _normal. _"None of these places look like they sell ropes and handcuffs and whips. Or edible body paint," he added, almost as an afterthought. "You just can't mentally scar someone without edible body paint."

A few people on the streets turned to give them strange looks.

Fuji smiled slowly, turning the corner. Yukimura looked up at the flashing neon signs and the minimally dressed workers. He caught a flash of a neon pink whip somewhere in the store, and smiled.

This was exactly what he was looking for.


	11. How to Shop for Obscenities

Sorry, I was really hoping I could get this up sooner, but I ended up having a lot more homework this break than I expected, and when you add that on with my violin, bassoon, and piano practice, you get . . . not a lot of free time. But I intend to keep my promise of updating everything! Even if I haven't started on some of it yet. Pray for me? :)

And there's really not as much action in this chapter as I would have liked, but I had to get this up quickly, and to be honest, this one is more of a build-up chapter than anything; in the next chapter, a few more plots come into full bloom, and of course, there's the perk of seeing Akaya sing. This is the second time I'm doing this to him, I think. (RikkaiDai Sleepover, anyone?)

* * *

"This really isn't my crowd," Fuji was saying. "I'm much more interested in the more classical styles, as I'm sure you can tell."

"Yes," was Yukimura's perfunctory reply. He was looking around; the room was awfully bright, and it hurt his eyes, but he supposed there was nothing he could do about that. He, after all, was the one who'd wanted to visit the rather—crude—shop in the first place, and he was going to stick with it. Akaya's reaction would be more than worth it.

It wasn't as if he had anything against the boy; he was probably just trying to please Niou, his boss; only Niou would have put him up to such a capricious task, but Yukimura decided he'd go with it. It was such fun, after all, and Niou _could _be rather intimidating.

But never to Yukimura.

Nobody could ever intimidate Yukimura; he was _Yukimura. _

Those three words were also a very viable explanation for why he was pulling the poor child along in the first place. For one, it was fun. For another, he was bored. And, of course, he was Yukimura.

He did like the way that sounded. "I am Yukimura," he said to himself, amused.

Those three words also explained why nobody gave him strange looks for talking to himself.

Fuji ignored his absent-mindedness and continued, "And I really don't like torturing people. I mean, I'm not sadistic or anything. Really. I'm a very kind person who donates to animal shelters occasionally." He considered that for a moment. "And not because they have all the very desirable equipment there that can put animals to sleep," he added thoughtfully.

Yukimura wasn't willing to buy that. "Of course," he said, smiling ruefully. "I suppose you like to kiss babies and smile for the camera, too."

Fuji waved the thought away. "I leave that to the models." He drifted away from Yukimura's side to examine a piece of lingerie. "This would work rather well for Akaya," he said thoughtfully. "Or for one of my models. It's nearly spring, and my new line will be coming out, soon. There's still enough time to modify it a bit.

"Don't second-guess yourself. You're a genius when it comes to this; and springtime is a time of innocence, not very opportune for lingerie. In any case, you'd poison the babies, Fuji," Yukimura responded easily.

The music in the shop grew louder, and Yukimura brought a hand to his ears. "What is this?" he asked, sounding annoyed. "It's not even Japanese."

Fuji shook his head. "This is an American shop," he reminded him. "It's really rather popular. Don't blame the Americans for the fact that you have such horrid tastes."

Yukimura gave him an offended look. "You have the exact same taste, Fuji."

Fuji smiled warmly. "Technicalities," he said dismissively.

A pretty and probably underage woman walked up to Yukimura and Fuji, the former smiling sweetly, and the latter not-so-sweetly. "Can I help you, gentlemen?" she asked warmly, in the manner a mother might ask if her children wanted cupcakes. "We've restocked just this morning, so I'm sure that everything will be to your tastes." She turned to Fuji and curtsied. "It was an honor modeling for you, sir."

Yukimura gave Fuji a look. Fuji might have kept up the angelic, sweet, flawless look for the public and the media, but the man was a tad loony and more than a tad sadistic; it astounded Yukimura how he'd managed to keep up such an impeccable image, and how the truth of his personality had yet to leak out.

It further amazed him how the majority of his clients were completely and _utterly _clueless.

Fuji tilted his head to the side and let out a breath that was half laughter, half sigh. "It was an honor to work with you, Akiza."

"If you're quite done with your flirting," Yukimura interrupted, "I'd really like to get back to scaring the wits out of Akaya."

The girl—Akiza—brought a hand to her lips in a dainty gesture of surprise. "You're Yukimura Seiichi!" She smiled brightly and bounded over to him. "Oh, I'm such a fan! You and your boyfriend are so adorable together!"

Yukimura considered correcting her, then settled for smiling charmingly. "Then would you help me, my dear?" he inquired. "You see…" He grinned wickedly. "My _darling _Akaya has some peculiar tastes. He just _loves _being frightened out of his mind, being completely disgusted and being prone to suicidal thoughts."

"A… masochist?" Akiza suggested. Her tone suggested that she had no true idea of what a masochist actually was, and had merely picked it up from one of her colleagues. Yukimura smiled. The girl reminded him of Akaya.

'Cept female. There was that to consider.

"Yes, that's the word," Yukimura agreed. "And being the wonderful boyfriend and faithful lover I am, I want nothing more than to help him. Would you assist me?"

Fuji leaned back and smiled, watching as Yukimura did his work. "You see," Fuji added, "Akaya likes to _pretend _he has a case of homophobia. It's a game they play. So basically, what we need is a way to… give him cause for that homophobia. You see what I mean? Anything that frightens him to the point of crying will do. And if you have a video camera, that'd be lovely. Not that I'd put it up on my blog or send it to the news station, or anything. Not at all."

Akiza smiled brilliantly, not finding Fuji's explanation creepy at all. "What a wonderful character," she trilled. "Oh, I'd love to help!" She grasped Yukimura's hand and pulled him in the direction of a small, dark room. "We have all of our special equipment here."

Yukimura took one glance inside and smiled slowly. He turned to Akiza and bowed. "Thank you, miss. This will be quite sufficient."

Marui giggled. "You're an idiot," he said, still giggling, and pointed a finger at Akaya. "You idiot, you."

* * *

Akaya had learned to ignore him, and focused on his newspaper. _This is not happening, this is not happening, this is not happening, _he chanted to himself. He was getting very, very good at keeping up delusions, and opted to tune out reality—at least for the time being.

After all, no one would willingly go out to lunch with Sanada Genichiro.

Unless they had a death wish.

Although, judging from Akaya's behavior as of late, he might as well have had one. Because, really, you don't go out with an international superstar and pretend you're gay unless you have a death wish.

You damn well don't end up engaged to them, either.

"What does he want to talk to you about?" Marui asked, still giggling girlishly. "This is going to be so sweet. I swear. You have to, like, bring a tape recorder with you or something."

"And let you put it up on the news? No way," Akaya mumbled, shoving the newspaper closer to his face.

Marui waved the thought away. "I'll let you do it, if you want," he offered, and smiled like he was offering Akaya a million dollars.

In a sense, he was; the person to put up a conversation between Yukimura Seiichi's boyfriend and his bodyguard was bound to earn viewers; and, as such, cash. But at the moment, Akaya was less than interested.

He was interested in finding a way out.

He'd kept up the charade for long enough; Niou was offering him his company, yes, and admittedly, that was an attractive prize. But Akaya wasn't so easily fooled by material offerings, and he _was _multi-talented; he played multiple instruments, had a degree in medicine, law, music, and design in addition to his degree in journalism, and, thanks to a multitude of rather . . . _unexpected _events, had friends in high places. He could have ditched the job in an instant.

But, admittedly, there was some part of him that was clinging to the magazine, to the company.

Maybe it was the chance of being a boss, of having control?

The secret desire to wield power?

The relatable want for blackmail material?

Marui giggled.

Or maybe it was the thought of making it out alive, and being able to punch Marui Bunta's _face in. _

True, Yukimura, Fuji, and Niou weren't people to be messed with.

But you don't laugh at Akaya without some kind of corporal punishment, either.

Marui was going to pay, damn it.

And Akaya was going to find a way to make him do so if it was going to be the end of him. Which it just as well might have been.

* * *

Sanada frowned, folding both arms across his chest. "Really, Yukimura," he said into the little microphone, carefully hidden within the folds of his shirt collar. "Is this necessary?"

_"Of course,_" came Yukimura's slightly fuzzy voice. _"You said you wanted to be a part of this relationship, didn't you?_"

Sanada gave an exasperated sigh. "I said I wouldn't mind helping you wring his neck," he reminded him dryly. "You misinterpreted."

_"You're awfully boring, Sanada. Did you hear about our eighteen-some?_"

"Wasn't it a twenty-three-some?"

He could almost imagine Yukimura bringing a hand to his mouth and thinking carefully. _"You know, I'm not quite sure. I'll have to ask Fuji later on. He's good at math._"

"This has very little to do with math." _And a lot more to do with Fuji's psychopathic tendencies. _

"_Details,_" Yukimura replied smilingly. "_Remember the plan._"

"I'd never forget," Sanada assured wearily, and promptly dropped the recorder, assuming a nonchalant look, as the Target—Kirihara Akaya—entered.

It wasn't a particularly famous restaurant; a small, recently opened one, with barely any business. Sanada wasn't the type of person to attend such a place; to attend any restaurant event, for that matter; he'd always been more of a homecooked-meal sort. But he supposed there wasn't much of an option at this point. Yukimura was a client second and a best friend first; and when your best friend asked you to invite his would-be boyfriend to a karaoke bar, you accepted, even if you really, really, _really _want to judo-chop said boyfriend.

Speak of the devil.

(Literally.)

A headful of curly black hair poked in, and slightly anxious green eyes scanned the row of tables, seeking out someone in particular. Sanada met his gaze unwaveringly. If this was what Yukimura wanted, so be it. Even if the demand was rather queer.

No pun intended.

Really.

"Kirihara," Sanada greeted calmly. "It's good to see you."

Kirihara's face was easily readable—it said, "_Good to see you still know how to lie through your teeth._"

"Good to see you, too," Kirihara replied flatly, and sat. "Is there a particular reason you called me here?"

Sanada folded his hands. Good, he was getting straight to business. Sanada supposed he could've been rather fond of this child had it been under—different circumstances. "There is," he acknowledged. "You see, Yukimura's hosting a . . . karaoke party."

Kirihara visibly cringed, but his voice didn't quaver when he said, "And am I to go?"

Sanada praised him mentally for his bravado. "You are," he agreed. "And after the party, Yukimura wishes to speak to you about the wedding plans."

Another cringe.

He went on, remembering the script that Yukimura had told him to recite, "He wants it to be a very big event. Everyone will be invited; and Niou and Marui will have excellent seats, rest assured. There will be several major newspapers there to capture the event . . . and of course, we'll have to invite your family."

The look of horror on Kirihara's face was very laughable.

"My . . . family?" He cleared his throat. "Ahem. My . . . _family_?" Then, all in one breath, he said, "Damn-it-my-sister-will-never-let-me-live-this-down!"

_That's kind of the point. _"That's a shame, Kirihara," Sanada acknowledged, fighting down his amusement. "But I'm sure Yukimura knows best." He left the seat, placing a check down. "I'm afraid I'll have to take an early leave, but I'm sure Yukimura only wants the best for you."

Kirihara looked too horrified to reply.

Sanada walked outside and entered his limousine. The moment they began driving, he let himself collapse into a fit of uncharacteristic chuckles; then he straightened up immediately. No one was ever going to catch him laughing, dead or alive.

_Speaking of dead, _Sanada thought, casting a quick glance back at the restaurant, where Kirihara was presumably still frozen as a rock and petrified. _This is going to be rich. _


	12. How to Make Someone Jealous

Holy crap, this chapter's _huge. _Over nine thousand words, twenty-five pages; I think it's the most I've ever written in a single chapter.

No official pairings; technically,everyone in this story is assumed to be straight. But you'll notice there are a hell of a lot of Tango Pair hints in here. Sorry about that, haha—but, as always, you're free to interpret the hints however you like! I never blatantly say that any of the people here are heterosexual or otherwise, so, you know. Maybe they're secretly together. Who knows?

(Sorry this one took forever to write! Unfortunately, future chapters might take equally long, if I want to maintain the length.)

((Also! I don't own any of the songs mentioned here. I've named the artists along with the song name, so, you know, credit goes to them, and all that jazz.))

(((I _just _found a picture of a Marui-Niou-Kirihara-Yagyuu-Yanagi fivesome.)))

((((Uh, also! For some indiscernible reason, I'm very, **very fond of MaruiHara **at the moment**—Marui and Kirihara, **that is.** So if anyone **would like to** write a nice, legit fic **for them… Oh, and sorry about the parenthetical overkill.))))

* * *

Marui was at the doctor's.

He had a case of laughing too much, and his stomach had hurt for hours afterward.

Akaya thought it served him right.

("He invited you to a karaoke party? Seriously? I can go too? That's awesome! Hey, look on the bright side—you're pretty good at singing, right? Oh, Yukimura wants to invite your family? And tell them you're gay? Hahahahahahahaha—!")

Damn him.

Akaya sighed and fiddled with his cell phone. This really wasn't where he'd envisioned himself in life. He wasn't poor—not at all, actually. His family was fairly wealthy, and he really could've done anything he wanted in life. Journalism had always interested him, and his family had been good friends with Marui's family. When Marui decided to pursue journalism with Niou, Akaya had been encouraged to do the same. He didn't mind it at first—it was basic stuff, writing articles and whatnot. Then he'd gotten promoted to actually doing the interviewing, and _then _he'd gotten promoted to doing the undercover works.

It'd been fun. Until now.

He never thought it'd go this far. He was engaged to be married because of his boss's whims.

(He should've expected it.)

Was this really what he wanted out of life? It wasn't what he'd expected, definitely. But he still loved journalism, and he did want to take over the company someday. It was one thing to live a pampered life and depend on his parents, but he'd never been the dependent type. He'd wanted to make a living for himself, and now he had.

He just didn't know if he wanted to keep it.

With a resigned sort of sigh, he dialed his mother's phone number. It took only one ring before his mother picked up.

"Akaya? It's great to hear from you! You haven't called in weeks! How are you? Are you eating well? Do you have a girlfriend yet?"

He cringed a little at the last question. "I'm fine, Mom," he managed. "And as for the girlfriend thing . . . that's, uh . . . that's why I'm calling, actually."

"Oh, fantastic!" she trilled. "I can't wait to meet her!"

Akaya blanched. "Wait, that's not what I—"

"Your family misses you so much; you must come over! As a matter of fact, why don't you come over today? Right now? You don't have work at the moment, do you? Oh, it's fine, I'll just contact Niou and tell him to let you off. Come on, your sister wants to see you so badly! And you have to bring a picture of your new girlfriend! Is it that sweet Sakuno dear from the company? She's such a sweetheart—oh, she'll make a lovely daughter in law! See you soon, dear!"

She hung up.

That was exactly what he'd expected her to do, but it didn't mean he had to like it. His mother was like that—he had learned to associate one-sided conversations with her since he was six. She could carry on like that for hours at a time—he'd gotten off lucky, with only a two minute conversation. If it could even be called that.

Akaya groaned and leaned back, slamming his phone on the coffee table. A picture of his _girlfriend. _He could give her a picture of Sakuno instead, but he doubted Sakuno would take kindly to that.

Then he snorted. He might as well just give his parents a picture of Yukimura; he looked like a girl, anyway. He could pass off as one; he even sounded like a girl, for Pete's sake.

Akaya scowled. If Yukimura wanted this, fine. He didn't blame him. But _Niou_! He was enjoying this way too much. Knowing him, he'd probably screw with Akaya's family, too. He wasn't sure how his family would take it—he wasn't actually gay, of course. Not that he or his family had anything against homosexuality—but his mother realizing that her _sweet, darling little Akaya _wasn't going to be bringing forth any grandchildren?

Bring on the waterworks.

(In the form of tears, but probably also in the form of weaponry.)

And his mother had a tendency to . . . get a _little _overdramatic. Just a little.

Who was he kidding? She'd thrown a complete fit that one time he'd gotten picked on by a boy older than him, back in second grade. The boy (and his parents, probably) were scarred for life, and had fled the park as quickly as possible. Akaya didn't remember the details—thank god for selective memory.

Then there was his father.

Akaya shuddered.

Oh, he loved his father, no doubt. He really, honestly, sincerely did love his family. But.

_But. _

His father was almost as protective as his mother was, if not worse. And those two, combined with his sister—

Akaya decided he didn't want to think about it.

Marui burst through the door. "Good morning, sunshine!" he called, and positively beamed. "I'm in a fantastical mood!"

"Fantastical means ludicrously out of place, or odd," Akaya said absentmindedly. "It doesn't mean fantastic."

Marui considered that, then shrugged it off. "Someone's in a bad mood," he cooed in his best baby-voice, and pinched Akaya's cheek. "Did somebody get dumped by his boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," Akaya said thinly, and, with an incredible amount of self-restraint, removed Marui's hand without snapping his arm in half. "And no, I didn't get _dumped._" He was mildly insulted by that notion; he wasn't particularly stuck up, but he'd always been rather popular with women.

(And, as it would appear, men.)

"My mom thinks I have a girlfriend," he said slowly, and fully expecting Marui's burst of laughter.

"Stop," Marui pleaded, still giggling. "The doctor said I can't laugh too much, or my stomach will explode, or something."

Akaya looked up, startled. "He said that?"

Marui waved it off. "Something like that," he said dismissively. "The point is, you're kind of an idiot. What the hell are you going to do? Isn't your mom kind of . . . obsessive-compulsive?" That was a severe understatement, of course, and Akaya knew it. Marui had experienced his mom's wrath firsthand, when he'd dropped a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the floor back when they were in middle school.

"You _think_?"

He grinned. "Chill out, Aka-chan." Akaya scowled at the nickname. "You're Kirihara Akaya, master flirter, remember? You could give Niou a run for his money; are you really going to let some girly-guy do this to you? You know you're going to get the company, anyway, so just tough it out for a few more months."

"I'm getting married in a few more months," Akaya spat.

Marui shook his head. "Not necessarily," he replied impishly. "Imagine how _devastated _Yukimura would be if he saw you flirting with someone else. So devastated that he might put off the wedding for a little while. If you can pull through a few more months, you're home free! You get the company, break up with Yukimura, stay undercover for a little while—being the head of Star Weekly is a pretty discreet job, anyway. You're all set! Come up with some excuse about not being ready for a relationship, and then a while later declare you're straight, and Yukimura will never come hunting after you again."

"I know that part," Akaya said with a grimace. "I've dreamed about it for weeks. It's not that easy, trust me. I thought through all of it."

"What's so hard about it?" Marui demanded.

"All of it! Finding someone to flirt with, looking for an opportune moment, the _consequences_—"

"You're such a _girl._"

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Am not!"

Marui looked away haughtily. "I'm too mature to be involved in such an—an _immature _discussion." He folded his arms and tilted his head upwards in a mock example of dignity. He looked more like he'd broken his neck.

Akaya snorted. "You're about the least mature person I know."

Marui paused, then gave him a nudge. "Give this plan a shot, c'mon. I promise it'll be worth it."

* * *

Yukimura smiled pleasantly, and tapped his fingers to the beat. He was listening to tango music—_Mi Noche Triste, _by Castriota, and leaned toward the computer. Sanada was sitting off to the side, reading a novel, while Yukimura remained fixated by the tune playing on the computer. "Sanada," he murmured, "isn't it beautiful?"

Sanada gave a grunt in reply.

The blunette smiled. "You know you love tango music," he teased. "I heard you listening to it with Atobe the other day."

Sanada looked startled for a split second. "Yes, I was; he has quite a collection. How did you know that?"

Yukimura laughed and changed the topic. "Atobe's quite the dancer, isn't he?" He looked at Sanada thoughtfully. "Has he ever thought to teach you?"

_That _was an odd question.

"What? No, I—"

"Pity," Yukimura said, disappointedly. "I wanted you to teach me. I suppose I could ask Atobe . . . but I really don't want to trouble him too much. He's been so generous to me already, what with the engagement proposal ceremony and all. Although I really would love to tango with Kirihara-kun at the wedding."

"Speaking of which," Sanada began, "was that absolutely necessary? This relationship isn't going to last, you realize; at some point, you'll grow tired of torturing him, and what will you tell the public, then? You've made it such a publicity stunt that I wouldn't be surprised if Atobe's cousin in Germany knew about it. It isn't like you to be careless, Yukimura."

He shook his head. "I wasn't being careless," he insisted. "In fact, it'll be beneficial; all I have to do is break up with him on our wedding day, run away from the altar and say that my heart is with another, apologize to him, cause a scene." He said it the way someone would when discussing the weather. "Then I'll have a tennis match, win, be interviewed about my heartbreak, announce that I'm not ready for a relationship, but that there is someone out there who is meant for him and someone who is meant for me, and go on with life." He smiled. "It'll keep the fangirls away for a few months, too."

"Then I'm assuming you don't plan on following through with the—" Sanada grimaced as he said it "—honeymoon."

"See, I'm not quite sure about that yet. I would like to follow through with it," he admitted. "It'd be great fun. I wonder if he's a virgin."

"Yukimura!"

Yukimura laughed and ignored Sanada's stunned expression. "If I do decide to go through with the wedding," he said, "I'd have to wait a few weeks, then announce that we aren't right for each other, break up, give him a sad kiss farewell—in front of an audience, of course—and act depressed for a few months. Both plans are entirely plausible."

"What if he falls for you?"

"Don't worry," Yukimura assured. "He's not gay. He's very, very straight. In fact, I think he might be homophobic."

"You never know," Sanada said darkly.

The tango ended, and Yukimura clicked on something else. Another catchy tango began to play, and Yukimura sighed blissfully.

"The Libertango," he informed him. "By Piazzolla. My, just look at Yo-Yo Ma's expression; he's wonderfully talented. Doesn't Tezuka play the cello? Or was that Oshitari?"

"Tezuka knows a little; Oshitari plays the violin. And yes, it is a beautiful interpretation," Sanada murmured, and hoped to draw Yukimura off of the topic of Kirihara's sexuality.

"It's a shame they don't have many tangos for the flute," he said wistfully. "Mukahi and Marui both play the flute. You know Marui, don't you? Kirihara's friend?"

Marui, Yukimura thought, was very handsome indeed. So was Kirihara, of course, but Marui was a flashier sort of handsome. Kirihara was a bit more subtle. Yukimura honestly and sincerely liked them both, and really did want to befriend them as soon as the little charade ended.

He wondered if Marui would be interested in being the best man. (Although, that position was reserved for Sanada.)

Best men?

(Bridesmaid?)

"Why are you so interested in tangos?" Sanada inquired.

"I'd love to dance with him," Yukimura admitted. "Atobe and Fuji came up with the idea to host a pre-wedding party. It'll be some time after the karaoke fiasco, of course, but it'll be so much fun, don't you think? You should dance with Atobe, you know."

Sanada made a face. "I don't like dancing, thank you."

Yukimura laughed. "Fine, fine. Atobe's brilliant when it comes to dancing. In fact, I'd say he's brilliant at most things." He smiled a satisfied smile. "He'll never beat me when it comes to tennis, of course."

"You're at the top of the pro worlds," Sanada reminded him. "Nobody can beat you."

Yukimura gave him a fond smile. "You've come close," he offered. "If you'd just followed through with the drop volley, you might have won."

Sanada grunted, and didn't look like he wanted to talk about it, so Yukimura continued, "Do you suppose I could persuade Oshitari, Tezuka, Shishido, and Fuji to perform at my wedding? Oshitari with the violin, Tezuka the cello, Shishido the clarinet, and—well, Fuji could learn any instrument within two months."

"You might be able to convince Oshitari," Sanada said slowly. "Tezuka and Shishido . . . I'm not so sure."

"It was a nice thought, at least." Yukimura paused. "Who should I bring to the karaoke party tonight? You, of course. Atobe and Fuji, too. Kirihara's probably bringing Marui. Mm, maybe Oshitari and Mukahi. Ah, and Momoshiro, Kaido, and Kikumaru! They'll make for an entertaining audience."

"More like rowdy."

"That too," Yukimura agreed. "I'm really looking forward to today, I must admit. I'll be meeting Kirihara's parents in an hour or so, and then there's the karaoke. I wonder what his parents are like; polite, boisterous?"

"They might be shocked their son is dating a male," Sanada offered dryly. "Kirihara is straight, yes?"

"Very much so," Yukimura said, laughing. "Well, I don't want to cross dress—but maybe I'll wear something gender-neutral, just to make it fun. A blouse-y sort of shirt, maybe? Silk—apricot colored. And well fitting long pants. I would love to wear heels, but I don't think I'd walk in them very well. Maybe . . . I don't know."

"Ask Fuji," he suggested. "He's a designer, isn't he?"

Yukimura clapped his hands. "Wonderful idea!" He stood and turned off the music. "I'll go call him now. We'll probably have to meet up at some point. Sanada, would you call the people I mentioned and invite them to the party?"

"Sure."

* * *

Marui leaned back and grinned while Akaya paced, waiting for Yukimura to show up. His parents were inside, sipping tea and discussing Akaya's "girlfriend," wondering what had delayed "her" so much.

"You still haven't told them you're gay, yet?" Marui laughed.

"They'll hear you," Akaya hissed. "So shut up. And I'm _not _gay."

"That's what they all say," Marui informed him. "You look gay, if you ask me. You're too much of a pretty boy." He mussed Akaya's hair. "It's bad for you, kid."

"You're _one year _older than me," Akaya pointed out, stopping his pacing and looking Marui in the eye. "And you look pretty girly yourself."

Marui was plain amused, but Akaya was tense. Who knew what Yukimura would show up in? He was nice and all, but awfully _quirky. _He might've shown up in a pirate costume and Akaya wouldn't have been surprised.

"Chill out," Marui snorted. "Yukimura's not a nutcase; he wouldn't want to look crazy in front of your parents, anyway. Bad publicity and all, you know?" He glanced back at the Kiriharas' house. "Still, if he doesn't show up soon, your parents might not be too happy. You know, tardiness and all that. Parents don't like that stuff."

Akaya bit back a retort telling him to _not state the obvious because I'm not an idiot thank you very much _but with incredible self-restraint, shut up and took a deep breath. "He'll be here eventually," he muttered. "He wouldn't want to be late for this. And you can't really blame him if he is; he's a tennis player and a celebrity, isn't he? There's probably paparazzi and whatever. He's best friends with Fuji Syusuke—anyone like him can't be a good influence."

"Yukimura has common sense," Marui soothed. "He'll show up perfectly normal. Maybe."

"Akaya!" a voice called.

Akaya looked up at the same moment Marui started laughing. "That's either a really pretty girl," Marui said, "or your boyfriend crossdressing."

_Please-don't-be-the-latter—_

Yukimura was running toward him, light blue hair ruffling delicately in the breeze. He waved his pale hands warmly and smoothly, with all the grace of Miss Japan. His smile was welcoming and alluring.

But his _clothes._

(And, for that matter, his face.)

Even ten yards away, Akaya could tell Yukimura was wearing mascara. His lashes were much thicker and darker than when Akaya had last seen him. They made his eyes look paler, and Akaya admitted with a sinking feeling that he looked beautiful.

His clothes weren't exactly _completely _girly, but they were more feminine than gender neutral.

Not boyish at all, unfortunately.

He was wearing a pale pink chiffon blouse, with ruffles at the front. Akaya supposed that boys could wear stuff like that too, but they typically didn't—not unless they were going to a costume party, anyway. He was wearing dark jeans, not stuck-to the-skin skinny, but slimming. And he wore combat boots—which, combined with the jeans, provided a startling contrast to his light eyes and shirt.

Akaya scowled. He looked like a stupid _model. _

His parents were going to love Yukimura.

Damn it.

"Am I late?" Yukimura asked, barely out of breath. Akaya supposed it came with the job—tennis players had to have good stamina, right? Yukimura lifted a hand to his lips and looked guilty. "I'm so sorry—I had the most difficult time deciding what to wear."

Marui grinned at him. "You look fine," he assured amiably. Yukimura smiled gratefully at him, and the redhead led him into the mansion doors. "You'll love Akaya's parents," Marui was saying. "They're the most friendly people in the world. Oh, but if you really want them to like you, you should compliment their house. They're so proud of that Swiss carpet . . ."

Akaya trudged behind them and unlocked the door. His house was a beautiful one, he knew—maybe not as big or expensive as Yukimura's, but still very beautiful. Yukimura eyed it appreciatively.

Instantly, Akaya's mother was at the door, hugging Akaya and asking if his girlfriend had showed up.

He tried to ignore Marui's snort.

He tried to ignore Yukimura's amused smile.

But he could _not _ignore his mother hugging him and cooing over his "adorable looks and wonderfully pinchable cheeks".

Yes, that was Kirihara Ri. The friendliest, most unsuspecting, most embarrassing mother in the world. "Who's your friend?" she was saying, and turned to Yukimura. She covered her mouth when she gasped, in a gesture that was disturbingly similar to Yukimura's. "Is _this _your girlfriend?" she exclaimed, and gave a little squeal. "She's so beautiful! You know, I'm a makeup mogul. I know these things—and goodness, are you beautiful! Oh, your lashes frame your face perfectly—and your outfit is spectacular! Where did you buy that blouse?"

"It was custom-made, Madame," Yukimura said pleasantly, in a lilting, mellifluous voice. "By my friend."

"Who's your friend?" she inquired, sounding genuinely curious.

"Fuji Syusuke," Yukimura replied. "The designer of La Maison de Glace. He's a spectacular designer; it was so kind of him to design this outfit for me."

Akaya groaned inwardly. _I should've known._

"It's magnificent," she gushed. "_You're _magnificent! Fuji Syusuke is such a beautiful individual, himself. Sometimes I can't believe he's a boy." She led them into the living room. Yukimura's combat boots were definitely new, because they didn't leave so much as a trace of dirt on the expensive fur carpet. Kirihara Ri smiled warmly at them, and looked positively giddy when Yukimura leaned on Akaya's shoulder. Akaya laughed weakly and tried not to flinch away.

Marui cackled.

"Your house is beautiful," Yukimura said, with all the sincerity of a blind kitten. "I've never seen anything quite so nicely designed." Marui nodded approvingly.

"Thank you! You're such a sweetheart. Oh! I'm afraid I didn't ask your name," Kirihara Ri said apologetically.

Yukimura's smile widened, tenfold. "My name is Yukimura Seiiko."

_Seiiko?_

"A beautiful name for a beautiful lady," Ri said appreciatively. "May I ask what you do for a living?"

"I have a paid internship with a law firm," Yukimura explained. "But I'm still attending law school. It's very fulfilling." He took a sip of the tea Ri had laid out for him, and set it back down with perfect etiquette. "Of course, I still make time for Akaya-kun." He turned to look up at Akaya and gave such a sickeningly sweet smile that Akaya was tempted to run out of the house and flee to Sweden.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're not a model," Ri replied. "You're definitely beautiful enough, of course—but models are simply too scandalous for me."

_Mom, you have _no _idea._

Yukimura squeezed his hand, and Akaya mustered up the best fake smile he could. "Yeah, she's perfect, isn't she?"

Marui excused himself, but Akaya could hear him laughing from five doors down.

"She certainly is." Kirihara Ri nodded to herself. "You've picked a lovely young lady, Akaya. Why didn't you introduce me to her sooner? When are you two getting married?" she asked impatiently. "You're absolutely perfect for each other." To Yukimura, she added, "He's a bit shy, but he's such a sweetheart. And you certainly don't have to worry about financial problems!" She gestured proudly to her house. "We're perfectly wealthy, thank you. I don't even see why Akaya works."

"What else am I supposed to do?" Akaya demanded indignantly. "Sit at home at eat crepes all day?"

Ri waved him off. "He's going to be taking over the company, soon," she said pleasantly. "He's such a talented boy. Did you know he used to play tennis. Very, _very _talented, I tell you."

Yukimura tilted his head to the side and smiled. "I know. He's so wonderful—I can't begin to fathom how lucky I am. And we _are _getting married." He held up his hand, and Ri gave an insanely loud gasp at the large diamond ring stationed on his finger.

"That's a beautiful ring," she said breathily. "Akaya! Why didn't you tell me?"

"Seiichi—uh, _Seiiko—_and I wanted to make it a surprise," he said through gritted teeth.

"What's going on?" a voice called, and Akaya turned to see his father, walking down the stairs. "Who's this young lady?"

_Damn. It._

"This is Yukimura Seiiko," Kirihara Ri said, practically gushing. "She and Akaya are engaged to be married!"

Kirihara Ryou gave Yukimura a once-over, and stared her—him! (damn it, Yukimura was getting to his head)—down. "You're Yukimura Seiiko," he repeated slowly. He folded his arms and sat down next to his wife, looking stern.

_Help, Dad, help!_

Kirihara Ryou's face lit up, and he beamed. "It's great to meet you, young lady! You're a pretty one, aren't you?"

"Isn't she?" Ri agreed, sounding deliriously happy. She took three quick strides and seated herself next to Yukimura, giving him an enormous hug and smiling from ear to ear. "You can't even begin to understand how happy I am! I was always worried Akaya wouldn't be able find a suitable spouse. He's a shy one, you see. And he's always been a little quirky. You know, as a child, he used to dress up in Disney Princess costumes. I always wondered if he'd be able to find someone who'd accept that."

"Oh, don't worry," Yukimura replied smoothly. "I used to do that, too. It's always a pleasure to meet someone who shares the same interests."

_Excuse me?_

"You wouldn't happen to have pictures of him in those costumes, would you?" Yukimura continued. He widened his eyes and smiled subtly, hopefully. He tilted his head just enough so that his side bangs fell toward his eyes. He looked a thousand times more beautiful, and Akaya wanted to punch him in the face. It must have taken him a lifetime to master that look. "I love him so dearly, but it pains me to know that I don't know as much about his childhood as some people." He looked down bashfully. "I guess I'm a little insecure."

"Oh!" Kirihara Ri put a hand to her heart. Akaya wondered if she was about to have a seizure.

_It'd be appropriate punishment, _he thought spitefully.

"Of course we still have pictures," Ryou boomed. "I'll go up and get them right now! You wait here, young lady." He marched up the stairs again, presumably to find those photo albums.

Yukimura's smile widened.

A rainbow of swears flew through Akaya's mind.

* * *

"You poor kid," Marui giggled, and flopped down onto the bed. "You poor, poor kid."

They were back home. Akaya's parents were enamored with Yukimura, completely enamored. And not _one _of them suspected he was male. "He did that on purpose," Akaya fumed. "I know he did! He could've shown up in normal clothing! They wouldn't have thought he was a girl if he showed up in his stupid sweaty polo or something! And what the hell was that? Yukimura Seiiko?" He yelled wordlessly and punched a pillow.

"Hey, he did you a favor," Marui pointed out. "You don't have to say you're gay, now."

"They're going to find out eventually. Yukimura's a celebrity. I'm surprised they didn't recognize him."

"Your parents are technologically challenged," Marui replied easily. "Of course they wouldn't know. And if you just keep out of the paparazzi for a while, you'll be find."

"I _am _the paparazzi," Akaya snarled. He threw the pillow at Marui, who caught it easily and threw it back at him.

"Nah. You're a reporter. And in like, two months, you're going to be the company president. You won't have to do a thing. 'Sides, if you just flirt with somebody like I suggested before, the genius that I am, you might be able to get out of the whole charade, remember? You could pull a "sorry, I just realized I'm straight" routine on him. That one always works. Say you found true love with Sakuno-chan or something." He nodded, and sat up. His hair was a mess, but Akaya was too worked up to tease him about it.

"My parents are in love with him."

"They'll love Sakuno, too!" Maru insisted. "She's shy, pretty, talented, and perfectly obedient. She's like, the ideal Japanese housewife. _And _she's a hard worker. They'll love her. 'Sides, she's not a dude."

_Ha ha ha, _Akaya thought.

"It's too complicated."

"For _your _tiny little brain, yes," Marui teased. He ruffled Akaya's hair. "But not for me."

"Whose idea was it to go along with the whole stupid thing?" Akaya demanded.

"Uh, yours."

". . . oh, right."

Marui snickered. "You're an idiot. But you're my idiot, so it's okay."

"I'm _not _yours," Akaya replied sharply, not keen on the idea of anything gay-related.

"Chill out," Marui laughed. "I don't swing that way, unfortunately for you." Before Akaya could protest, he continued, "We're best friends, though. So even if you're the most retarded person on the planet—which you probably are—I'll stick up for you." Marui grinned up at him and gave him his trademark victory sign.

Akaya was secretly touched, but refused to admit it aloud. "Thanks," he muttered under his breath, and turned away.

Marui slung an arm around him lazily. "No problem, kiddo."

"You're only _one year—_"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. So how about that plan of mine?"

"What plan?"

"_The _plan. Wait, I forgot: You're stupid. Fine, I'll do it all myself." Marui reached for his cell phone and began scrolling through the contacts list. "Where is she . . . ?"

"Who?"

"Sakuno-chan," Marui replied perfunctorily. "You have to kiss her, remember? Or at least, throw yourself at her. We're inviting her to the karaoke party tonight." His Cheshire cat grin set off a heap of alarms, and Akaya tried to steal the cell phone from his hand. "What the hell are you doing?"

"You can't call her!" Akaya exclaimed. "I can't flirt with her! Yukimura's going to murder me, and—"

"You're such a wuss," Marui told him. "He will not! He'll be devastated and stuff, but he won't _kill _you. He's smarter than that—it'd be bad for his reputation."

"Maybe not in public," Akaya muttered.

Marui giggled—_god _that was a disturbing sound—and dialed Sakuno's number.

* * *

"Thank you for inviting me, Marui-san, Kirihara-kun," Sakuno said shyly. She looked down bashfully, then looked up at him again, as if seeking assurance.

Akaya nodded, trying not to blush.

Her hair was out of its braids, and fell in loose waves. She wore a delicate little sundress, and although she wasn't the blatant type of pretty Yukimura was, she was startlingly beautiful. In any case, he'd fancied this girl for quite some time, now, and seeing her in _anything _other than her office clothing was a change.

Marui nodded proudly to himself, as if Sakuno were his daughter or something.

Sakuno continued, "Although, I had no idea you were friends with such powerful people, Marui-san! You must be very well-connected."

Marui grinned, and Akaya scowled at him.

"And I had no idea that Akaya learned all his brilliant reporting techniques from you," Sakuno added enthusiastically. "Or that you were the one who taught him how to dress properly! Or that without you, he wouldn't have—"

"That's enough," Akaya interrupted, smiling forcedly and glaring daggers at Marui.

"You two go ahead," Marui offered, and shoved Akaya and Sakuno ahead. "I'm going to catch up with one my _connections._" He gave them a cheerful wave and backed off into the crowd. It wasn't hard to tell that he really hadn't disappeared at all—just a few feet away. Akaya cleared his throat and took her hand. Sakuno gave the smallest of gasps, but didn't pull away.

The one bad thing about fancying someone was that you acted like a complete douche around her. Had it been some other girl, he would've been perfectly fine with flirting his head off, but Sakuno kept looking at him with those wide brown eyes and that pouty sort of smile which he _knew _had to be unintentional because she wasn't the type to be seductive but goddamnit it was seductive.

Akaya glanced at her.

She smiled at him.

He turned away and prayed to heaven and hell that she hadn't seen him blush.

They walked into the karaoke club, and Akaya saw that Yukimura, Fuji, and a few other people were already there. A crowd of people were gathered near the center, where someone was singing, and another crowd of people were gathered near the buffet. Yukimura glanced at Akaya and Sakuno's interlocked hands, and narrowed his eyes a little.

_So far, so good._

"Now," Marui hissed, from the crowd.

"Are you crazy?" Akaya mouthed silently, panicky.

"_Now_!"

Akaya turned to Sakuno quickly, and without so much as a second thought, kissed her on the lips.

Sakuno gave a startled, muffled little exclamation, but didn't pull away.

Most people didn't seem to notice, but Yukimura certainly did. Sakuno was blushing deeply and looking both hopeful and confused. Marui looked amused.

Yukimura looked murderous.

He walked up to them. "Akaya," he greeted, and glanced again at Sakuno, who bowed quickly and introduced herself. Yukimura looked her over for a second, first with menace, then with amusement, and decided she wasn't a threat. "Nice friend you brought," he said warmly, "but I assumed we were going together, Akaya."

Of course, Sakuno was already aware of Akaya's engagement to Yukimura. She seemed completely embarrassed, and Akaya wanted to smack himself on the forehead—why did Marui pick Sakuno to make Yukimura jealous, of all people? She was about as shy as girls got—and he _liked _her! How was he supposed to flirt with her if he liked her? And the kiss had probably freaked her out. "I'm sorry," she stammered, bowing again. "I—Kirihara-kun—we're only coming as friends, because I've never been to a party like this before, and it was so kind of him to invite me. The kiss was—it was completely my fault! If I'm troubling you I'll leave right away!" And she began fumbling for her purse, and putting on her jacket.

"No, no," Yukimura assured. He smiled a dark, dangerous smile. "By all means, stay. I'll introduce you to some friends of mine." He turned around and called, "Oshitari! Mukahi!"

By now there was a large group of people singing. Most of the people weren't taking it seriously—but a few of the show-offs were. Akaya assumed they were professional singers, or something like that. A blunette was currently standing at the stage, singing some sappy love song, while a redhead danced to it.

The song ended just in time, and the blunette and redhead walked over—though the former sauntered and the latter practically bounced. "What's up?" the redhead asked. He looked at Sakuno, and his eyes sparkled. "Who's the cute girl?" He tilted his head to the side, and his pageboy cut fell toward his face. _Why is Yukimura friends with so many pretty-boys?_

Sakuno blushed, and Akaya resented the redhead for it.

"Now, now, Gakuto," the blunette interrupted smoothly. "Where are your manners?" He bowed with all the suaveness of a—well, a friend of Yukimura's—and purred, "Oshitari Yuushi, at your service. I apologize for the rudeness of my companion—his name is Mukahi Gakuto, and he's not as crude as he acts, my dear." He took Sakuno's hand and brought it to his lips. Sakuno's blush darkened, and she stuttered a greeting in response.

_Damn it,_ Akaya thought, annoyed. That'd be him if he didn't have such a huge crush on her.

The red head—Gakuto?—pulled Sakuno away from Oshitari and retorted, "I'm _not _crude, and I can dance a hell of a lot better than you can, stupid Yuushi!"

Oshitari gave Sakuno an amused look, as if to say, _You see?_

Sakuno seemed completely overwhelmed, but before Akaya could do anything about it, Yukimura had grabbed his wrist and dragged him away.

_This is it, _Akaya thought. _It's going to be the end of me. He's going to pull out a knife. I can see it now: "Kirihara Akaya, age nineteen, found stabbed to death in the corner of a karaoke bar—"_

He tried in vain to pull away, but with every twitch of the hand Yukimura's grip hardened. "Let go," Akaya protested. "What are you doing?" But Yukimura refused to let go, and dragged him to a darker corner of the club. Most of the people were gathered in the center, singing silly songs and making funny sounds—for the most part, they were left alone. Nobody paid them any mind, and for that, Akaya was grateful.

When Yukimura finally turned around to look at him, Akaya was startled by the look of sheer hurt in his eyes. He looked completely despondent as he said, "What were _you _doing? Are you in love with that girl?" His voice trembled slightly, and Akaya didn't know any better—he fell for it.

Close friends of Yukimura would know that his voice would _never _tremble, he'd _never _look completely despondent, and he'd never actually be hurt by a cheating spouse. (Or soon-to-be.)

He'd make his spouse's life miserable.

But Akaya knew no better, and replied weakly, "No, I—"

Yukimura's depressed expression disappeared instantly. "That's wonderful!" He beamed. "It's good to know that you're still fully and irreversibly in love with me." He lifted Akaya's hand (which was still firmly enclosed in his own) and touched his lips to it briefly.

"Hey, I didn't—!"

"Your parents are delightful," Yukimura continued, and tightened his grip on Akaya's hand. It was an iron hold, and Akaya's fingers couldn't so much as twitch. "Your mother especially. I think she liked me."

"'Cause you cross-dressed," Akaya told him slowly.

"But she still liked me," Yukimura insisted. "I think Sakuno did, too. Oh, I wonder how she's getting along with Oshitari and Gakuto-kun. They're a bit too flirtatious for their own good, you know. I hope she's doing alright. Oshitari has a tendency to bed the girls on their first dates, and you know Gakuto—he's always been a bit crazy. He's had a threesome with Oshitari once, I believe. Goodness, it was something remarkable. Come to think of it, we never did have that twenty-threesome, did we?"

_That _was a load of bull, but Akaya didn't know that. As far as he knew, Oshitari was a complete stud and Gakuto was a lunatic straight out of the asylum. Akaya had no idea that Oshitari was a gentleman—and, well, Gakuto _was _a bit crazy sometimes—but not out-of-the-asylum crazy. Yukimura noted that neither of the pair would appreciate their reputations being ruined, but decided it could wait. For now.

"No, we didn't," Akaya replied painfully.

"We really should."

"We really shouldn't."

"Oh, were you turned off by the fact that Fuji didn't actually eat Tezuka? I'm awfully sorry about that—Fuji must've gotten a bit confused. I know he ate somebody—I just can't remember who."

"That's . . . not it." Akaya tried to pull away, but Yukimura was dragging him toward the stage by that point.

"It might have been Kikumaru—but I'm afraid I'm not certain. I'll ask him, if you'd like. And if you really do want him to eat Tezuka, I'm sure he'd do it for you! He's very, very fond of you. Let's go ask him now! He's right there, sitting with Kikumaru—ah, I suppose he didn't eat Kikumaru, after all. Shall I ask Fuji to eat him for you?"

"He doesn't have to eat anybody," Akaya assured hastily. "Please don't."

Out of the corner of his eye, Akaya noticed Sakuno being serenaded by the blunette—Oshitari, the player. Gakuto sat directly behind her, and had both arms wrapped lazily around her, his chin resting on the top of her head.

Akaya's scowl tripled in intensity.

"Then let's go sing!" Yukimura chirped, and jumped onstage. "Won't you sing with me?"

There was a wave of cheers from the audience, and Akaya could easily discern Marui's obnoxious laughter from the crowd. "Yeah, you two lovebirds!" he cheered. "Do a duet!"

_Aren't you supposed to be helping me, you moron? _

Yukimura (rather mortifyingly, for Akaya) ran his fingers through Akaya's dark curls and cooed, "I'm afraid my fiancé is a bit shy. I'll sing something for him, instead." He turned his head upwards and gave Akaya a long kiss on the lips, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him inwards.

More cheers.

Akaya just stood there.

He fled offstage as soon as Yukimura broke off the kiss, doing his best to ignore the whistles and cheers. Marui grinned at him, and dragged him to an empty seat. "Wonder what he'll sing," the redhead murmured, pushing Akaya toward the table. "He's a pretty sweet boyfriend, isn't he? I almost wish I were gay, like you are." He gave a Cheshire cat grin. "I'm so jealous."

And, as if he needed any clarification, added, "Of you, not of him. God knows who'd want to be stuck with _you _for a boyfriend."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Akaya muttered, and sat down with a humph. Marui snickered and sat down next to him, flashing a thumbs-up sign to Yukimura when he was sure Akaya wasn't looking.

Onstage, a lulling piano rhythm began to play. Marui nodded in recognition and whistled. "_Thinking of You, _by ATC," he explained. "It's a pretty romantic song."

Yukimura's light, lilting tone fitted the song perfectly, and for a moment, Akaya was actually caught up in it.

Then he realized the singer was practically the devil incarnate, and fled back to reality.

Akaya had heard the song before; it was a pretty popular tune, and he did know most of the lyrics. The first chorus was perfectly normal. "Thinkin' of you I'm thinkin' of you; all I can do is just think about you. Thinkin' of you I'm thinkin' of you; whenever I'm blue I am thinkin' of you." He looked completely into it—eyes closed, tapping his feet to the beat, making vague arm gestures—and looking like a pop idol in general.

_He has a good singing voice, _Akaya thought hazily.

Then Marui started snickering again, and Akaya realized with a sinking feeling that Yukimura had—_reworded—_some of the lines.

"No matter how I try I don't find a reason why I _shouldn't cuff you with my tie_; I always have you on my mind."

And then: "No matter where I go—_if you're cheating I will know._  
I'd like to be your boy—or else _I'll break your heart_. No matter where you are, baby I can't be far: _'cause I have spies on you all the time_."

Akaya was fairly, fairly certain that _that _wasn't how the song was supposed to go.

The song was a romantic, innocent, sweet one.

Yukimura had warped it into a stalker song.

The crowd was loving it.

And the scariest part was that Akaya was fairly certain Yukimura meant every word of it.

There was a frenzy of applause when Yukimura finished, and a heap of compliments for his ad-libbed lyrics. Yukimura soaked it all up with his stupid, calm smile, and thanked everyone politely, before turning to Akaya. "Akaya dear," he purred. A few people chuckled at the nickname. "Won't you sing something for us?"

Akaya looked around nervously. He couldn't refuse in an atmosphere like this, could he? "I'm not a good singer," he tried.

Yukimura looked warmly at him. It was just too much fun—and easy, for that matter—to make him squirm. The boy was such a flirt when it came to women. Who knew he was such a homophobic? "For me?" Yukimura persuaded, widening his eyes in his trademark smile.

The blunette suppressed an amused chuckle as Kirihara tried wildly to think of an excuse. His throat was sore, he had a headache, he was shy, he had _performance anxiety, _of all the things—Yukimura couldn't help a little laugh at that one. He probably meant "stage fright," but didn't bother correcting him.

Then Marui winked at Yukimura, and slung an arm around his fiancé. "I'll sing with you," the redhead offered, and began pushing Kirihara onstage.

Yukimura nodded thankfully at Marui. Kirihara failed to notice, but was sputtering outraged protests at his friend, who seemed to be having a splendid time playing devil's advocate. Marui seemed to be the only person who realized Yukimura's ploy to be a good joke, an easy laugh—and not suicidal. "C'mon," Marui was saying, "it'll be fun! You're not _that _bad at singing. I've heard you sing in the shower."

"E—ex_cuse _me?"

"You're excused," Marui replied easily. "Let's sing!"

Yukimura sat beside Sanada, who looked rather amused, himself. "What do you think?" Yukimura murmured.

"I can't tell if he's a singer or not," Sanada replied quietly. "Maybe you should ask Niou, instead."

"I don't think Niou-kun is here, is he?"

"Dressed as Yagyuu."

"Ah."

A catchy beat boomed throughout the club, and Marui kicked it off. "Let's drop!" he began, pumping his fist. He sang the first verse in perfect pitch, perfect tone, perfect volume, a perfect singing voice. Yukimura raised his eyebrows, impressed. The song was _Shake It, _by Metro Station. It was a hard one to sing, because of the throaty way the song was sung, but Marui seemed to be pulling it off perfectly. He had good charisma, a good voice.

"Now if she does it like this, will you do it like that? Now if she touches like this, will you touch her right back? Now if she moves like this, will you move it like that?"

The way he sang it had the girls in the room (however few there were) swooning. He moved his body to the rhythm and drew cheers from the crowd. At the chorus, he began break-dancing, much to the delight of the audience. Yukimura smiled to himself. "Not bad," he said to Sanada. "Not bad at all."

"C'mon, shake shake, shake shake, uh-shake it!"

Kirihara, meanwhile, was just standing off to the side, looking awkward. Arms folded, sullen expression—he looked like a sulky child. Marui kept singing, up until the middle of the song, when he gave Kirihara a barely noticeable kick to the shin. Kirihara jolted, muttered something under his breath, and took the microphone from Marui.

"Well, I saw you dancing and I couldn't get you off my mind. I could tell that you could tell that I was taking my time. I was thinking of ways that you would stay and be mine. Your body's shaking, turn me on, so I can turn off the lights." He didn't seem very into it, but he had a good singing voice, and the lyrics came out very, very well.

Yukimura was _really _impressed. Kirihara didn't seem like the type who could sing, but there was a sort of rough quality to his voice that was strangely appealing.

"He's not awful," Sanada grunted.

Yukimura nodded. "If only I were a girl," he mused, "I'd find it kind of hot."

He laughed at the odd look Sanada gave him.

The song ended, and Marui basked in his applause. Kirihara didn't look too out of place, either—especially since the women were the ones cheering loudest. He was clearly more comfortable in the presence of females, Yukimura noted.

All the more fun to torture him with, he supposed.

And that good singing voice was bound to be some reliable blackmail material.

Along with the footage of him at the stage, singing.

Yukimura smiled.

It was some time after the song ended that Yukimura approached him. Marui was busy talking to some of the girls at the club, laughing and flirting and looking completely like the high society type he was supposed to be. _He would make a wonderful singer, _Yukimura realized. _I should introduce him as a talent to some of the recorders. _

But at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.

He searched through the messenger bag he'd brought along, and when he finally found what he was looking for, walked up to Kirihara.

The reporter was sulking in one of the chairs while he watched Oshitari and Mukahi throw themselves at Sakuno. _I'll have to thank them for keeping up the act so well, _Yukimura thought, amused. _They make the most amazing actors._

He waited until he was practically breathing down his neck. "Akaya-kun," he murmured, in his best breathy bedroom voice. "You're a very nice singer."

Kirihara yelped and almost fell off his chair.

Yukimura tried not to laugh.

This was seriously way too easy.

"A very, very nice singer," he repeated breathily, and wrapped his arms around him. "It's an appealing quality."

"Thanks," Kirihara managed, and tried to pull himself away.

"It makes me want to be closer to you," Yukimura repeated, tangling his hands in Akaya's curls. "Why didn't you tell me you could sing?"

Kirihara tried to muster up a response, but Yukimura beat him to it.

"A present," he said, "for being such a wonderful singer and the most amazing boyfriend_ ever._"

Yukimura noticed he flinched at the word "boyfriend".

And then he pulled out the handcuffs.

The look of absolute terror in Kirihara's eyes was hilarious.

(To Yukimura, anyway.)

Oh, the endless possibilities! Yukimura beamed, and taking of advantage Kirihara's petrified state, firmly cuffed Kirihara's wrist to his own. "You should sleep over today," Yukimura whispered, and, grinning sadistically, kissed Kirihara on the neck.

Fuji was absolutely brilliant. Yukimura made a mental note to remind himself to send Fuji a fruit basket sometime next week.

Meanwhile, Kirihara had finally noticed that the handcuffs had found their way to his wrist, and was trying desperately to pull it off.

Good times, good times.

* * *

"Well, that didn't work out too well," Marui noted casually. They were sitting near the edge of the swimming pool, watching as everyone else swam and socialized. The karaoke party was over, and Yukimura had invited everyone to his house for an after-party of sorts. Mukahi looked like he was trying to murder the brunette standing next to him, while Oshitari struggled to restrain them both. Yagyuu and Niou were chatting amiably, and not for the first time, Akaya wondered how someone like Niou could be friends with someone like Yagyuu.

Yukimura passed by with Sanada, each holding a martini. Yukimura handed his to Sanada, then jumped in the pool. He caught Akaya's eye and bared his teeth in a smile. "Akaya!" he greeted. Akaya glanced away, and turned to Marui.

"I was handcuffed to a lunatic for two hours. During the stupid party. For everyone to see," he said flatly. "And I'm going to be cuffed about twenty-four hours more when I get home. I wouldn't think it went too well, either." He frowned. "Who would've thought Yukimura was the jealous type? So much for your plan." He sighed and dipped his feet into the water. "Let's just go for a swim or something. I _don't _want to think about this. Or the idiot who came up with the plan in the first place."

He should've known better than to trust Marui; sure, the guy was a ladies' man—but _nobody _could predict Yukimura Seiichi.

Marui brushed off the jab. "See, here's the thing; Yukimura's bound to get pissed if _you're _the one flirting. It's like, a possession thing. You're his. You can't flirt with other people; especially since you're engaged and all. It's being unfaithful and stuff. But if someone else were to flirt with you, there wouldn't be much of a problem, right? It wouldn't be your fault, if that happened. So he couldn't really get mad at you—or handcuff you." He paused to nod coolly at a few girls, who giggled and blushed. Akaya rolled his eyes. "It might be even better if it were someone he knew, because that'd take the attention off of you for a while. And it'd delay the whole marriage thing, you know what I'm saying?" Marui continued.

Akaya snorted. "Yeah, I do. And it's impossible. Where are we going to find someone to—"

"Easy," Marui assured. "There are tons of people who like you. You've got friends and fans and whatever. I'm pretty sure Sakuno-chan likes you, too."

"Don't _say _that."

"The main issue is the timing," Marui continued. "You have to be in an area where there are a ton of celebrities, you know? And they can't be doing anything too exciting, because you want them to notice you. Kind of like . . . now. Mukahi, Oshitari, Shishido, Atobe, Echizen, Tezuka, Yagyuu, Kaido, Inui, Kikumaru and Oishi—Niou, even—they're all here. You need a setting like this. With the karaoke party, everyone was really into the singing. They didn't notice the whole fiasco." Under his breath, he added, "Unfortunately. And there are more people here than at the karaoke party, anyway. I think Yukimura invited some more people, or something."

"That won't be hard to arrange," Akaya replied, sounding not at all pleased about it. "Yukimura's constantly dragging me to these things."

"But you'll also need a way to sneak your friend in, and Yukimura would have to be looking at you when the person kisses you. And it'd have to seem like a spur-of-the-moment thing, not a I-want-to-get-you-jealous thing."

"Just forget about it."

Something caught Marui's eye. "Don't look. There's Yukimura!" he hissed. Yukimura was walking toward them both, waving pleasantly. There was a menacing glint in his blue eyes, and Akaya looked like he wanted to shrink.

Marui always did like playing devil's advocate.

He looked at Akaya, and grinned. Chances were Akaya wasn't going to forgive him for this for a long time to come. But who cared? The timing was perfect, the setting was perfect. Celebrities, influential people, all watching—but most importantly, Yukimura was watching. This was killing two birds with one stone—helping Akaya _and _annoying Akaya.

'Sides, it'd be fun.

"Hurry, while he's looking," Marui whispered. He tilted Akaya's chin toward him and leaned in.

Akaya looked confused. "What? What the hell are you—?"

Marui kissed him.


	13. How to Be a Celebrity

Really just a filler chapter, 'cause a ton of stuff happened in the last chapter and I need to tie up loose ends, haha. I tried to make this chapter shorter, too, but I dunno if it worked out that well.

* * *

The party didn't stop. But Akaya was no idiot (most of the time)—almost everybody at the afterparty had seen what happened. He severely doubted he'd be able to live this down. Marui's hands were in his hair, and to anybody else, it would've looked like some passionate kiss. In all honesty, Marui wasn't actually doing much—no tongue (thank God), at least. He would've thrown up on the spot. But even so, Akaya could feel Marui's smirk against his mouth, getting wider by the moment, and almost spat in the redhead's face.

For the moment, though, he was too shell-shocked to do much of anything.

_What the effing hell?_

From the corner of his eyes he noticed that Yukimura had stiffened in surprise. Sanada had quickly moved next to him, saying something under his breath and looking rigid with anger. Yukimura said nothing, but walked a little closer.

It was Marui who pulled away, grinning evilly, and only then did Akaya realize that he was seriously deprived of air. He took big, heaving breaths, his face flushed in embarrassment and anger. "What," Akaya said slowly, "the _fuck _was that?"

"Shhh." Marui's grin was getting scarier by the moment. His face was still uncomfortably close to Akaya's own, but he didn't budge.

Anger was building up—it was how Akaya functioned. He never just—jumped out at somebody. It took a while for the fury to cumulate, and when it did, he raised hell. And hell yes, it was cumulating. His voice was low as he hissed, "What do you mean, "shhh"? Are you a fucking nutcase? I'm gonna kick your ass from here to Sweden, you—"

"Why, Marui! Have you taken a liking to Akaya, too?"

Akaya fell silent. Yukimura strolled over to them and wrapped an arm around Akaya's waist.

Marui arched an eyebrow at Yukimura's pleasant voice, but went along with it. "Yeah, he's just so adorable," he replied easily, only a bit sarcastic. "You just can't help but cuddle with him, y'know?"

Akaya gave a low, primal growl.

"Yes, I know what you mean," Yukimura agreed. "I love him dearly; I do hope you don't intend to take him away."

Marui's lips curled upward in a grin. Akaya had better thank him for this—here he was, getting Yukimura jealous for him, and all Akaya could do was growl. "And if I do?"

Yukimura's pleasant façade dropped instantly. But instead of looking angry, or sadistic, or deathly scary, he said in a mournful voice, "But you can't." His expression was heartbreaking, his eyes wide and pleading. Marui faltered for a moment, before remembering that this was the exact same act that he'd pulled on Akaya's parents.

"Why not?" he challenged.

"Well, for one thing, he's engaged."

Marui laughed a little. "He can have more than one lover, can't he?"

Akaya held his breath.

(For what, he wasn't really sure. Because honestly, the idea of having _lovers _was a little nauseating.)

Yukimura seemed to contemplate the question for a moment, and Akaya gaped—how could anybody actually give thought to a question like that? If he liked Akaya as much as he claimed he did (and lord, Akaya hoped he didn't), he would've punched Marui in the face and left.

But then again, Yukimura wasn't really . . . average.

Or normal, for that matter.

At all.

So Akaya wasn't really _too _surprised when he heard Yukimura say, "Sure he can! We'll share him! But you'll have to make your announcement public, too."

Both of Marui's eyebrows were raised, now. "Seriously?"

Yukimura smiled. "Seriously! We should go on a date together. But . . ." He looked hesitant. "See, I'm a celebrity. And Akaya's going to be a celebrity, isn't he? Once he takes over the company, I mean."

Akaya's eyes widened. How did he know about that?

Well, he _was _Yukimura.

That explained a lot, actually.

In any case, it was true. The company was a big one, with the gossip segment only a small branch of it. Akaya would eventually be in charge of the entire company—leading in technology, fashion, world communications, news, and business. The company president was automatically promoted to celebrity status. Niou had often taken the time to act in movies, model, or go on talk shows.

Niou had secured his celebrity status already, so moving to another company wouldn't do much—especially since he was going to be promoted to co-president in two years (if not sooner, as Niou was always one to cheat the system), anyway. But if Akaya was promoted to president, Marui would be left behind. It used to worry Akaya a lot—until he'd been so distracted by the Yukimura fiasco that he didn't have time to think about it anymore.

"It'll be awkward if you're the only non-celebrity, don't you think?" Yukimura explained. "I mean, us famous people associating with a nobody."

Marui's eye twitched in annoyance. "I think I'll manage, thank you very much." Akaya stifled a snicker.

Yukimura shook his head. "No, no, I'm not trying to insult you."

"Really?" Marui asked sarcastically. "I thought for sure you were complimenting me when you called me a nobody. Don't worry, I'm not gay—not interested in your precious Akaya." Akaya groaned inwardly—he was losing it. One insult and he lost his cool—or at least, one jab at his ego.

Yukimura's smile widened. "That's not what I meant, but that's wonderfully reassuring! You see, I think you'd be a magnificent singer—and a magnificent celebrity. You have quite the singing voice, I've noticed, and a great talent for dancing. You have the charisma and the good looks necessary—and you have the connections. So why not?"

Marui seemed lost. "Wait, what?"

"I know a few labels that'd be interested in signing you," he continued. "I've already sent them a recording of your karaoke performance. They were quite impressed by your dancing abilities, too. How about it? A friend of my Aka-chan deserves nothing less."

"_Seriously_?"

"Definitely! I'm sure you've heard of AK Recordings?"

Marui gave an excited start. "_Heard of_? AK Recordings is signed with some of the best artists in Japan, you kidding me?"

Yukimura beamed. "They want to sign you, too!"

"Seriously?"

"I got a text from them. Here, see?"

"Oh my _god. _Hell yes, I'll sign with them!"

"There's still the interview, though, so that might be hard."

"Psh, no problem. Charming's my name _and _my game."

"Do you know what songs you'll record?"

"I've had this one song in mind—"

Akaya didn't bother trying to eavesdrop. They were stuck in their own little world, rambling about music. He stood up and walked to another end of the pool, trying to make sense of the situation and contemplating taking a swim.

"So Marui's going to be a star, huh?" Niou said casually, appearing from nowhere—potentially an alternate dimension, since it was Niou they were talking about. "Suits him."

"How'd you know?" Akaya accused.

He shrugged. "Yukimura told me earlier. He was pretty impressed by Marui's singing. Anyway, we have more important things to talk about right now." And with all the glory of a king knighting a servant, he pushed Akaya into the pool. Akaya yelped, splashing a little and diving up for air.

"Hey," he sputtered, coughing and trying to rub the chlorine from his eyes—which only made it worse.

"Haha, you okay?"

Akaya looked up. "Niou-san," he acknowledged spitefully, and pushed himself out of the swimming pool. "What the hell was that for?"

Niou beamed. "That," he said seriously, "was your induction ceremony."

"For _what_?"

"You are officially the company president, as of tonight."

Akaya gaped. "What?"

"You'll have to come to the office tomorrow, because I need to introduce you to some important people, and I need to teach you how to do—well, everything. But otherwise, you're Lys Corp.'s official president. Congratulations." His smile was entirely predatory. "I'm going to Hiroshi's company in two days, so tomorrow's all I have to train you."

"You're leaving already? You couldn't have told me sooner?"

"We just decided it today," he explained, not sounding apologetic at all. "C'mon. Being president has its perks."

Akaya's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Won't you miss it? You're going to be starting over at a new company. Why leave a top position?"

"Hiroshi's my best friend," Niou defended. "Besides, I'm going to be promoted to co-president, anyway. His company is just as prestigious as Lys Corp. And anyway, I'll still be the head of the data and design groups. It's not a huge change. The only person who'll be the boss of me is Hiroshi."

Akaya frowned and folded his arms, though it was rather difficult to look intimidating while he was soaking wet. "I still feel like you're setting me up."

He shrugged and began to leave. "Well, of course," he called over his shoulder. "I don't want to deal with Yukimura's wrath. He's all yours, _Aka-chan._"

. . . Damn.

**

* * *

**

Loud music blared from the stereo. It seemed that the guests hadn't had enough fun dancing at the karaoke bar, and felt the need to dance in the pool as well.

Yukimura dragged him to an isolated area of the party, once the business with Marui was over and done with. As isolated as the party got, in any case. The noise level was still at an all time high, and none of the party spirit seemed to be dying out anytime soon. Guests cheered, swam, dived and danced like it was two in the afternoon.

Didn't these people sleep?

He supposed not; the professions of most of these people varied—from fashion designer to actor to musician to dancer to talk show host to writer to about a million other careers—but in the end, they were celebrities. Their work probably took them all over the place.

But it was twelve AM, and Akaya was _sleepy, _damnit.

Sleepy and confused. But something told him he would've been confused even if he weren't sleepy—after all, who the hell offers somebody a singing career after he catches that somebody kissing his lover?

_Lover._

Ew.

Akaya shuddered a little. It went unnoticed, for the most part.

Yukimura smiled at him, and Akaya felt a bit dizzy. "Are you tired?" he asked sweetly. "We can leave the party and go inside the house." He contemplated. "Or I could bring the party in my house. _Or _I could bring a bed for you outside, right by the pool."

"No, thanks," Akaya said hastily.

He beamed. "We could share the bed!"

Akaya backed away. "_No,_" he said firmly, "thanks."

From out of nowhere, Yukimura pulled out a pair of handcuffs. They were furry.

And pink.

And had _"hot stuff" _written all over them.

In rhinestones.

_Pink _rhinestones.

"We didn't get to fully experiment with these," he added. "Here." In a swift movement he cuffed the two of them together, and tossed the key into the pool. It hit some poor kid with a cap right on the head, who muttered, "Mada mada dane."

Akaya panicked. "Wait, do you have a spare key?"

Yukimura's smile practically glistered. _All that glisters is not gold, _Akaya thought automatically. _Or sane. _"That was the only one, but it's okay. The servants will have to clean up the pool eventually. I'll tell them to stay on the lookout for the key."

"When will that be?"

He hummed. "Oh, maybe sometime next week."

"_Next week_?"

Akaya stared, and Yukimura's smile widened inches by the second. "We'll finally get to spend some quality time together," he murmured, and ran a hand through Akaya's hair. "Don't you miss this?"

Akaya took two steps back, and dived into the pool.

With a (graceful) cry, Yukimura was (gracefully) dragged into the pool with him. "Aka-chan," he (gracefully) sputtered, (gracefully) bobbing his head out of the water. "What are you doing?"

But Akaya's head was still underwater, his eyes stinging slightly from straining so hard. His eyes would probably be red with chlorine eventually—but _where was that goddamn key?_

He swam toward the bratty-looking kid with the cap, ignoring the fact that his feet kicked a few people right in the chest on the way there, and ignoring the fact that Yukimura was (gracefully) being pulled along beside him.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed a sparkle. He turned toward it, forgetting that the sparkle was blue, not silver.

So he was more surprised than he should have been when he found himself face to face with Yukimura.

Underwater.

And more frightened/pissed off than surprised when Yukimura proceeded to kiss him.

Underwater.

There was a tint in Yukimura's eyes, one that read, "This is what you get for dragging me into a pool," but Akaya was a little too disorganized at the moment to notice it.

His lungs were already screaming for oxygen, and Yukimura wasn't helping, damnit.

His face was turning red, both from embarrassment and lack of oxygen, and he flailed wildly, hoping the blunette would get the hint.

Yukimura pushed Akaya further underwater.

Akaya's vision was blurring, and he felt a little woozy. He was pushed so far down that his back hit the bottom of the pool, and the water pressure was making his head hurt. His arm hit something cold and metallic, and with a wave of relief, he realized that it was the key to the handcuffs. He wrapped his fingers around it and shoved it into the pocket of his swimming trunks.

Then the world turned black.

x

". . . kaya? Akaya?"

The first thing that Akaya noted was that his chest hurt like _hell._

Next was that Yukimura's face was creepily close to his, and while, to the crowd, it may have looked concerned, Akaya was probably the only one who could see the sadistic shine in his smile.

He yelped and scrambled back a little.

And fell into the pool.

Again.

This time, though, Yukimura dived in with him, to avoid being dragged in again. He managed to look incredibly handsome doing so, and Akaya resented him for it. Yukimura's dark blue hair looked gorgeous when it was wet.

Akaya's black curls just looked . . . wet.

Screw public image and dignity. (For the moment.)

He fumbled for the key in his pocket, and tried bringing it to the keyhole of the handcuffs. "It's not fitting," he muttered, jabbing at it over and over.

Yukimura brought a dainty (free) hand to his mouth and said, "Oh, my! That must've been the wrong key. I believe I have the real key in my room, somewhere." He smiled slowly and leaned forward a bit, until their noses were touching. "Let's go together."

Akaya did his best to drown out the wolf-whistles that sounded, and sunk back underwater.

**

* * *

**

Marui was officially a celebrity.

He couldn't be happier.

It was Yukimura who'd introduced him to the music label he was now working with. It was Yukimura who'd given the label a sample of Marui's singing. But it was Marui, ultimately, who sealed the deal, with his charisma and—well, talent.

He had a mini-photo shoot prior, and they'd released the photos to the general public, promoting him as a soon-to-be idol.

It worked too well.

There were billboards and posters with Marui's face, grinning smugly, up everywhere. He had a fansite already, along with half of Japan's female population as his fan girls. He hadn't even released his debut album yet, but he was by now an idol among the girls. Marui couldn't even go outside without girls swarming all over him, asking for a photo. And, of course, he loved the attention, always giving in to his fan's wishes and taking a few pictures with them, going so far as to wink at a lucky few—which only increased his fan girl following, tenfold. A video of his singing had somehow found its way to the internet, and was listened to over and over. Somebody had even taken to playing the song on the radio, and unfortunately, Akaya was caught up in the sweep of fame, too.

Reporters stalked the both of them, asking if they were going to pursue music careers. Akaya had fervently denied it, but Marui had smiled that charming smile and said, "For sure. You guys will be hearing about me soon enough, haha."

And here he was.

In a recording studio.

With about a thousand screaming fangirls surrounding the building, chanting Marui's name. It'd always amazed Akaya how much charisma Marui had; he just had a way of drawing people to him—without actually doing anything.

It was scheduled—as soon as Marui finished recording this song (which was due to happen that day)—the song would be released on the internet. It'd probably be set to play on the radio in a few days, and assuming that it was a hit with the public, there'd be a music video.

Then they'd get to work on his original song, which was set to be recorded next week. They'd be officially released in an album together, in about a month.

It was unfortunate—this would only add to his ego.

Akaya sat in the recording studio, watching as Marui sang enthusiastically to some American song. The rhythm was peppy, with a melancholic melody. It was Marui's sort of thing, Akaya knew. He'd always been born for stardom; he had the looks for it, too. It was like he was genetically bred to be a pop idol.

And damn, could he sing.

Marui was definitely in his element. He was recording a song from somebody else's album to go alongside his debut, and he sang it well. He'd always been extremely good at English, and his accent was impeccable. English was awfully popular in Japan at the moment—it'd work out well for him. "_Ain't I seen you before?I think I remember those eyes—'cause baby, tonight the DJ got us falling in love again_._ So dance like it's the last night of your life."_

The part of the song where someone was supposed to rap in Spanish was swapped in favor of Marui rapping in Japanese. He kept his voice low and breathy, teasing and sultry, and Akaya almost rolled his eyes.

He transitioned back into the melody easily, even though the song was meant for two people. He was surprisingly good at rapping—in all honesty, Akaya had no idea that he was so good at singing, even though he'd known him almost all his life.

But Akaya did know that he was good at dancing—no doubt he'd have way too much fun with the music video. They'd already had the photo shoot for his new release—he probably could've made a career for himself as a model, too.

It made him happy, though, that his friend was rising to stardom. He wasn't too close with many people, and it had frustrated him to know that when he took over the company, he'd have to be his best friend's superior. With this sudden onset to fame, Marui didn't have to work with the company anymore. And Marui would love this new life; he'd always liked attention, and here, he was doing everything he did best, everything he loved most. Office work never did suit him—he was better off dancing, singing, flirting, catching people's attention.

He smiled a little. He really was happy for Marui—really ecstatic. Marui might have been a pain in the neck at times, but they were best friends—and Akaya was pleased to be on the same as him. He'd be the president of a company, and as president, he'd probably have to associate with celebrities, anyway. And now that Marui was practically a celebrity (even though he hadn't actually done anything yet) . . .

Genuinely, genuinely happy.

He supposed he had Yukimura to thank for this.

Shaking the thought from his head, he continued listening to Marui's singing. The last thing he wanted to think about at this point was _that. _

**

* * *

**

As it turned out, being president of the company was no easy task, even Niou acted like the biggest slacker in the universe. Akaya had enough trouble simply managing the branches of the company—who knew there were so many?

It'd come as something of a shock that a nineteen year old had been instantly promoted to company president. A few of the other corporations had tried to outsmart Niou, too, when he was president—he was only twenty, after all, and most of the other presidents were well into their fifties. Niou had made fools of them by outsmarting them all, but that didn't stop them from trying to do the same thing to Akaya.

Most of the time, they tried to send contracts with dangerous loopholes, or made an attempt to buy out the main branches of the corporation, even though it was blatantly obvious that they couldn't afford it. Lys Corp. was one of the best in the world, and besides—Niou had trained Akaya well, if only through his incessant pranking and teasing.

That really wasn't an issue.

But there was just so much to do. Besides dealing with the company idiots, he had to oversee all the productions of every single branch in the company—even fashion, in which he had absolutely no interest at all. Every single error—even a broken computer, for the love of kami-sama—was reported to him. He barely had enough time to drink a cup of coffee.

_Then _he had to read over contracts, mergers, and proposals by other companies, which was just about the most boring task in the world. Business meetings and breakfasts, having to meet with district attorneys and local government officials . . . too much to manage.

He wondered how Niou had managed to do all of it, and still have enough time to—well, be Niou.

He had Takana-san, in any case. The company advisor had been around for at least twenty years now, a sixty year old man with a kind smile and a gentle personality. Akaya wondered more than once how it was that he hadn't been eaten alive by the company sharks already, but did admit that he was a huge help.

Marui, meanwhile, took the time to visit him—or at least annoy him—occasionally. Akaya had been so busy with the company, and Marui busy with his concerts and fan greetings, that neither of them really had the time to chat for very long. They still shared a flat, but these days, Akaya got home at around two in the morning, and left at five in the morning. Marui's schedule, meanwhile, was completely random and sporadic. They barely saw each other anymore.

He hoped that after a few weeks, things would go back to normal. Being the newest president, he had to greet other presidents and officials—not to mention he had to get used to the whole scenario. Marui, being a new idol, had to properly build up his image before he could go back to a relatively normal (or as normal as things got for him) life.

In Akaya's opinion, Marui was building his image rather well. The publicist had wanted him to go for a playboy, but relatively non-controversial idol, as he was awfully young. And so, Marui finally had the perfect excuse to flirt with every single girl he saw, without having to deal with commitment issues. Akaya snorted as he sifted through the heap of papers his secretary had put on his desk. Just a smile from Marui was enough to send a girl reeling with joy, whether she was nine or ninety. The chivalrous player, they called him.

_Pretty befitting image, _Akaya thought, and scribbled his signature on a few contracts. '_Cept he's usually not that chivalrous._

Not around Akaya, anyway.

They should've named Marui the chivalrous idiot. _Or, _Akaya thought, recalling that ridiculous kiss by the pool, _the chivalrous jackass. _

That idiot. It was all over the tabloids, and although Akaya had managed to coerce the other partygoers to go along with him and insist that it was merely a Photoshop scam, most of the other celebrities knew the truth.

Akaya, while no pop idol or teen heartthrob, had officially achieved celebrity status, too. He wasn't just Yukimura's fiancé, or Niou's protégé, anymore. He was the president of Lys Corp., and while he didn't have a publicist, he'd built up an image, too. Among other companies, there were rumors that this new president was as sly and charismatic as Niou himself. Nobody could get a loophole through him, and he had a knack for business. Kirihara Akaya, they said, wasn't somebody to be crossed.

Yes, Akaya rather liked his image.

But one thing still bothered him.

Yukimura hadn't contacted him in a week.

Not that he wasn't happy about it, of course. But it wasn't like him. An idle Yukimura usually meant a plotting Yukimura, and a plotting Yukimura usually meant a suicidal Akaya.

He glanced at another proposal on his desk, and his eyes widened when he saw the name.

Fuji Syusuke, designer of La Maison de Glace, was cordially inviting Kirihara Akaya, president of Lys. Corp., to a dinner party, to discuss potential collaborations. It was boringly written: typical of a party invitation, Akaya supposed. But there was one particular segment that caught his eye.

…

_I, on behalf of La Maison de Glace, would be honored to sell a selection of my designs to Lys Corp. The dinner party will take place on the twelfth of next month, at 666 Fifth Avenue in New York, NY. A private jet will be provided for you and a select few others—including Marui Bunta, who has also been invited. The exact meeting place will be announced at a later date. All expenses are covered. _

_Please RSVP to —_

‡ La Maison de Glace ‡

_PS. Hello, Aka-chan! __Seiichi's sorry about the lack of contact lately; he's been so busy, and I'm sure you have been too. But no worries. We'd just _love _to make it up to you at the dinner party. _

_PPS. We've finally found a bed big enough to fit twenty-three people! _

_PPPS. It's not really a bed, though. Just a giant room covered in mattresses._

_PPPPS. Correction—twenty-foursome. Because Marui's invited too._

_PPPPPS. Don't worry; we'll provide the handcuffs!_

_PPPPPPS. But if you have any chocolate sauce, bring that. We don't know if we'll have enough for twenty-four people._

_XO_

Signed,

_Fuji Syusuke_

…

Uh-oh.

Akaya's breathing quickened in panic. Forgetting that his secretary was right outside, he hollered, "Takana-san! Help!"

**

* * *

**

It was only after the second week of stardom that Marui had finally found the time to properly hang out with Akaya. They'd agreed to meet up at their favorite cafe, a small cafe in the middle of nowhere and amazing coffee. Still, while grateful for the chance to socialize with his best friend, the two of them had to worry about dodging paparazzi - especially since Akaya was publicly thought to be, well, gay.

He still shuddered at the thought.

It was ironic, he thought, as he walked into the restaurant. He used to be the paparazzi - and now he was avoiding them. At least he knew that nobody from his company would be sneaking around, trying to get shots of him. He'd established very well on his first day as company president that if anybody so much as touched a camera in his presence, he'd introduce him to his Knuckle Serve, and had even demonstrated it for the non-believers. Yes, he decided. It was good to be intimidating. What was the phrase? Machiavelli - better to be feared than to be loved, eh?

There weren't many people in the restaurant, and Akaya didn't see Marui, either. He wondered if he was early, and sat at a random table, looking over the menu. It probably wasn't the best idea to go to a cafe for dinner, but he figured he'd need the coffee, if only to finish editing those contracts.

Someone touched his shoulder, and he turned around. A man in dark sunglasses, a scarf, a bucket hat, and a giant peacoat stood behind him. "Hi," he whispered. It was an awfully suspicious outfit for someone in the middle of the summer - anyone in that attire was either begging to be arrested or begging to be jumped.

Akaya jolted in surprise (and fear, though he'd never admit it). Then he recognized the voice, and almost laughed. "Marui?" he whispered back. "Is that you?"

Yes, there were pinkish red strands of hair poking out from under the ridiculous hat. Marui nodded in the affirmative and sat across from him. "I was hiding near the storage closet," he explained. "You know. Being all ninja-like."

Akaya gave him a doubtful once-over. "In that getup?" he asked.

Marui grinned and whispered, "The waitress agreed to let me hide there in exchange for an autograph. Man, it kinda sucks being famous. If I'd known it was this much trouble, I wouldn't have outed all those celebrities back in our reporting days."

Typical. Akaya did laugh this time, not so much because the situation was funny as because he'd missed hanging out with Marui. Niou was too busy these days to really socialize, either, and he wasn't particularly close with anybody else. "Nobody recognizes me," Akaya pointed out, half good-naturedly and half jealously.

His friend snorted. "You've been in office for what, two days? Company presidents aren't going to get as much publicity - like poor Jackal. He never hosts any events; I wonder if anyone even knows he's the president of Que Associations. You've gotta host a party or competition or something before you're really in the spotlight." Marui considered this for a moment, then added, "Although, you're pretty well known for being Yukimura's boyfriend. You've been kinda out of the spotlight lately, though. Hasn't Yukimura tried to drag you anyplace?"

"Not yet," Akaya answered, "thank God. I think he's finally gotten bored with the whole thing. I hope he dumps me soon."

"Tsk tsk." Marui wagged a finger in disapproval. "So mean to your boyfriend."

"My fake boyfriend," Akaya corrected.

Marui shrugged. "Same difference. Sorry about the poolside kiss thing," he added apologetically. "I seriously thought it'd work."

"Worked out pretty well for you," Akaya muttered.

The redhead beamed. "Sure did!"

Akaya rolled his eyes and went back to looking at the menu. "What're you ordering? I don't know if I should just get coffee, or something legit. I'll have to stay up all night looking over some of these mergers."

Marui winced sympathetically. "Niou made it look so easy," he commented. "Must be tough, huh?"

"Not so much tough as boring," he replied flatly. "The first week, anyway. Maybe it'll get better."

"How did Niou have so much fun with it?"

"He's weird. Who knows?"

A waiter sidled over to them, giving Marui a suspicious look and Akaya a respectful bow. They ordered passion tea lemonade and black coffee, respectively, and Akaya leaned back in his chair. "Must be easy to be a waiter," he noted jealously. "All you have to do is stand around and bring people stuff."

Marui frowned. "I don't know," he said dubiously. "It doesn't seem like your type of thing. Aren't you, like, into psychologically scaring people out of their wits and whatever? You can't really do that as a waiter." He thought for a moment. "Actually, being a singer or an actor wouldn't suit you, either. I guess it'd be fun for you to do once in a while, but I doubt it'd be interesting, you know?"

Akaya sighed. "No career likes me," he said sadly. "I'm career-likable-ness-less."

Marui patted him on the shoulder. "It's okay," he assured. "You'll find your career soulmate eventually. Right now, worry about Yukimura. I love the guy, but..."

"But what?" Akaya asked dryly. "Thought you loved him for making me miserable."

"I do," Marui confirmed. "I have a shrine at home in his name, and I praise his Akaya-torture-success every night."

"That's... a little creepy."

Marui nodded once. "That's okay," he said, firmly believing in his warped logic, "because Yukimura's a little creepy, too."

"How would you know?"

Marui gave him a look. "How would I _not _know?"

"Point," Akaya admitted. The waiter returned, carrying two drinks. Marui's was as pink as his hair.

"You know the peace and quiet won't keep up for long, right?" Marui took a sip. "You're officially at celeb status now. Yukimura is, too. It's going to explode sooner or later."

"Yeah," he muttered. "I know." Absentmindedly, he noted that more and more people were entering the cafe. Many of them were teenage girls - he'd have to be careful not to get caught. Akaya opened his mouth to warn Marui, but was cut off before he could get out a word.

Marui smiled warmly, and in his kindest, gentlest voice, continued, "Don't mind me if I take a few photos of you being humiliated, and frame them. Because I totally will. And if you guys have sex, you need to plan it and tell me at least an hour ahead of time."

"Planned parenthood?" Akaya asked sarcastically.

Marui beamed. "I wanna make you a sex tape," he explained. "I'll even edit it to include meese and cotton candy. I know how much you love meese and cotton candy. And if you don't let me tape it, I'll just sneak a camera in your room or something. And I may or may not post the video on YouTube. Aren't I a great friend?"

Screw warning him.

Akaya stared at him in disbelief and annoyance for a moment, then announced, "You're one hell of a friend; I'll drink to that." He took a long swig of his coffee, then reached across the table and pulled off Marui's hat, glasses, and scarf in one swift movement. "Hey, look, everybody! It's Marui Bunta!" he shouted.

Marui's eyes widened and jumped up, about to bolt from his seat, but was swarmed by fans in less than a second, clamoring for pictures and autographs. Akaya heard a pained yelp, and a "Cool, I got a chunk of his hair!"

Akaya laughed the entire walk home.


	14. How to Meet the Sister in Law

Because, let's face it, Marui singing soul/hip-hop/R&B is hot.

And also. If Aka-chan is a nutcase, wouldn't his family members be a little crazy, too? Well, maybe not the adults, but the _sister. _Older sisters are always a little crazy. I should know. :) Well, I'm an older cousin, technically, but it counts!

_And! _If you guys remember, Fuji mentioned something about starring in a film, a few chapters back. That comes into play here. More so in the next chapter, but just keep it in mind.

"Say Aah" by Trey Songz is not mine. ;)

* * *

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

And _then _there was the sound of Marui humming some inexplicably catchy tune, making weird arm gestures, and nodding his head to the beat.

Akaya groaned inwardly in annoyance and leaned further back in the seat. The air pressure was getting to him—and then there was all the time zone stuff. "For the love of all that is holy, stop that," Akaya hissed.

"Whaaat?" Marui complained. "It's stuck in my head, too!"

"Well, keep it in your head and out of mine," Akaya muttered, grabbing a bottle of champagne and popping off the cork.

They were on a private jet, presumably Fuji's, since he was the one hosting the party in the first place. At the moment, Akaya and Marui were the only two people on the jet—Fuji and Yukimura were already in New York. According to the pilot, the plane was set to stop by California and Colombia, where Yagyuu and Niou were, respectively. Akaya supposed that Yagyuu was in California for business—but what the hell was Niou doing in South America?

"Someone's being cranky," Marui teased. "What's wrong? Afraid of seeing your boyfriend again, after all these weeks of freedom?"

Akaya thought he heard the pilot giggle.

"No, I'm not scared," Akaya spat, and folded his arms like a petulant child. "Am I supposed to look forward to a twenty-foursome? Fuji said we'd be doing it on the _floor, _Marui. Does that sound fun to you?"

"Yes, actually," Marui piped up. "And it's Marui-_san._ Show some respect for your elders."

"You're one year older than me and about ten years less mature," Akaya said moodily, and stared out the window. They'd left Japan barely an hour ago. He'd never had to leave the country for business trips before, but he supposed he'd have to get used to it. The rides were twenty hours long, though! How was he supposed to survive twenty hours of Marui humming some stupid song?

"_And we don't buy no drinks at the bar,_" Marui sang under his breath. "_We pop champagne 'cause we got that_—"

"Oh my _god,_" Akaya muttered, taking a swig from the champagne bottle. "Shut up."

Marui watched him down half the bottle. "That's real dignified, Akaya." Then he grinned wickedly, and sang at the top of his lungs, "_Go girl, it's your birthday, open wide, I know you're thirsty, say ahhh!_"

Akaya almost spat out the champagne. "First of all, no, it's not my birthday, and no, I'm not a girl. Second of all, _what_?"

Marui looked surprised. "You actually understand the lyrics?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"'Cause you suck at English?"

"I can't be president of Lys Corp without knowing English!" Akaya pointed out, insulted.

"Psh, you're just really bad at it." Marui laughed. "Your English is _awful._ Your French, Spanish, and German are amazing, but your English is atrocious. Anyway, it's the song I'm supposed to release next," Marui explained. "It fits my image, and since that Usher song was such a big hit, they thought they'd do another American one."

Akaya snorted. "What, were your original songs complete failures?"

"Like hell," Marui protested, offended. "Taisetsu was a huge hit! And I'll have you know that Arashi is ranked number two on the Japan Hot 100! I wrote it myself, too."

"But that Usher song is ranked number one," Akaya pointed out. He couldn't go anywhere without hearing some girl sing that song on the streets. Marui had started a craze—and Akaya had threatened any of his employees listening to it with castration.

"Well . . . yeah," Marui admitted. "But still! This song's pretty catchy! Anyway, I didn't really have a choice—it was either this song or a song by some teenybopper named Justin Bieber, or something. Dude, he's like, ten. I bet he's not even old enough to drink. He's like, a castrato, or something." Marui shuddered. "His songs aren't bad, though—I heard they're pretty popular. Just . . . not good for my image."

Akaya arched an eyebrow, then settled for saying, "Just stop humming."

"You've gotten really good at ordering people around, haven't you?" Marui commented. "Really good. Unfortunately for you, I'm older than you. So I don't have to do a thing you say." He beamed and continued, "_Pocket full of money, club going jump, 'til I rock inside the doorway. Bottles of the rose, smelling like Dolce and Gabbana_—"

"You've only been in the music industry for about a month," Akaya noted. "Are you sure it's good idea for you to sing brag-songs this early in?"

Marui shrugged. "Why not? It's not like I don't have anything to brag about. They're saying I might be the youngest person ever to be nominated for a Japan Gold Disc Award, but I'm not gonna sing about _that. _Better to sing about my stunningly handsome looks and the fans at my feet."

"Modest, aren't you?"

He beamed. "You know it."

Akaya rolled his eyes. "You'll fit right in with Yukimura and his clique of snobbish celebrities at the party."

"Hey, why was I invited to this dinner party, anyway? Fuji didn't really mention anything in my invite—just said he wanted to discuss business, and that there was a twenty-foursome I should look forward to."

Akaya wondered if Fuji mentioned that on everyone's invites—people like Tezuka and Echizen might have been . . . turned off by it. Not that Akaya liked it, either. He'd been thanking his lucky stars when it turned out that a gargantuan bed wasn't available—only for _this _to happen . . .

"Probably just for the twenty-foursome," Akaya guessed, and took another swig of champagne. He was starting to feel a little dizzy. "This is really good champagne," he said, his words beginning to slur.

Marui plucked the bottle out of his hands. "Oh, no you don't," Marui warned. "This flight is twenty hours long! You're gonna be hung over by the time we get to the dinner party, and you definitely don't want that to happen."

Huh.

That was true.

Got to stay sober.

(He had to remember what happened on his first date with Yukimura. The horrors. Oh, god, and he'd sworn he'd never touch another glass of champagne, too.)

But that was some _really _good champagne.

"Why don't you have something to drink, too?" Akaya offered. "Trust me, it's good." He held out a flute glass to Marui, who gave him a suspicious look before pouring, like, a hundredth of an ounce of champagne.

He took a hesitant sip, and his eyes lit up. "Holy crap, this is good!" He poured the rest of the bottle into the glass and downed it in one go.

Akaya grinned slowly. "There's more," he said, gesturing the rows of champagne in the mini-fridge.

Marui gasped. "Score!"

Akaya took one bottle for himself and popped the champagne, unopposed.

That was way too easy.

x

Akaya and Marui were drunk.

They were very, very, very drunk.

Niou and Yagyuu exchanged a look as they boarded the private jet, Yagyuu looking concerned, and Niou looking maliciously amused.

"Hey, wassup?" Marui slurred, and held up a bottle of champagne. "You want some?"

"You two will be very hung over by the time we get to the dinner party," Yagyuu warned.

Niou snorted. "Stop being a spoilsport, Hiroshi. They'll have the night to sleep it off; the party's tomorrow."

"They'll be hung over in the morning."

Niou waved him off. "Whatever. This is good champagne." He poured a glass for Yagyuu and claimed the rest of the bottle for himself. "How's being president going for you, Akaya?"

"Too much work," came the mostly-incoherent mumble. Akaya eyed the empty champagne bottle suspiciously. "Too many douches."

"Very true," Niou agreed. "Hey, Yukimura told me to give you a message."

That was enough to jolt Akaya out of his drunken stupor. "What?" Akaya asked warily.

Niou smiled a slow, feral smile, and leaned over Marui so that he was face to face with Akaya. Akaya shifted uncomfortably. Marui snickered.

Then Niou kissed him.

(Akaya was really, really sick of people kissing him without his permission, damn it. Where was the respect?)

First came shock. Then came anger. Then, in a moment of pure, unadulterated fury, Akaya bit as hard as he could on Niou's lip.

Niou yelped and jumped back, while Yagyuu scolded him halfheartedly. "Holy shit, Akaya, that hurts," Niou complained, nursing his bottom lip. "If there are paparazzi at that party . . . man, the press is going to have a field day. I can see it now—Niou Masaharu, with a bloody lip."

"More like a dirty mouth. Serves you bloody right," Akaya retorted. "That was Yukimura's message? Fuck him."

"You know you want to," Niou teased, wagging his eyebrows.

Akaya snarled at him and grabbed another bottle of champagne. Time to get drunk.

Again.

"He likes it rough," Niou told Yagyuu, who rolled his eyes and helped himself to another glass of wine.

**

* * *

**

Akaya smiled brightly. It was a fantastic day; he was wealthy, president of a company, had a house that rivaled the size of Queen Elizabeth's castle, and a faithful, purebred golden retriever.

Life was good.

He got up from bed and flung aside the curtains. Sunshine flooded the room, illuminating everything a beautiful shade of gold. His golden retriever ran up to him and licked him on the cheek.

"Good morning, Aka-chan," said the dog.

"Good—" Akaya began, then cut himself off and stared, dumbfounded. "You can . . . talk?"

"Why, of course," the dog said, giggling. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You're a dog," Akaya said slowly.

"No shit," said the dog.

Akaya frowned and folded his arms. "I can't say I like your attitude," he said sternly. "Bad dog."

The dog got up on his hind legs and whacked Akaya in the head with a paw. "Bad boy! Don't call me a bad dog!"

Akaya held the side of his face with a hurt expression. "You hit me!"

"I'm your husband," the dog said. "Husbands hit their wives."

"_Excuse me?_" Akaya sputtered. "You're a dog!" He paused. "And what makes you the husband?"

"No," the dog said. His fur suddenly turned blue. "I'm Yukimura Seiichi." And just like that, the dog turned into Yukimura Seiichi.

"Holy f—" Akaya scrambled away, but Yukimura caught his arm before he could get anywhere, and licked—slurped, really—his cheek.

"_AAHHHHHH!"_

Akaya shot up from his bed, then fell back down and tried to go back to sleep. He'd barely been sleeping for an hour—he'd just gotten off the plane. That was a . . . really weird dream.

x

Why was the room so bright?

Why was it so loud?

Why did he have a horrible headache?

"Akaya," someone whispered into his ear. He could feel the person's breath on his cheek, and it felt funny. "Time to wake up."

"Nnngh," Akaya replied intelligently, and rolled over. "Go away."

"Akaya," the voice repeated stubbornly. "Up."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"AKAYA!" the voice shouted in his hear. "GET UP!"

Akaya cried out in surprise and jolted upwards. He brought a hand to his head—his headache had suddenly increased tenfold. "What the hell?"

Niou beamed. "Good morning, sunshine!"

"Not morning," Akaya whined. "I _just _went to sleep."

"Time zone differences," Niou explained cheerily. "Jetlag and all that jazz. Let's go! We need to get you all primped up for that dinner party tonight."

Akaya fell backwards onto the bed and buried his face in a pillow. "Brought suit, brought shoes, brought tie. Lemme sleep," came the mostly incoherent mumble.

"No no no," Niou warned. "Things are different in America. Hairstyles matter. And you are not going to ruin Lys Corp.'s image by showing up with a bed head. Lys Corp. is all about class and elegance, so we're going to tame that crazy crow's nest of yours."

"Go fix Marui's hair—his hair's messy, too."

"His hair doesn't need to be fixed—he doesn't work for Lys Corp. anymore, remember? Besides, his hair's messy in a cool way. And it fits his image. You, on the other hand, are making your first public appearance as president. So we're fixing your hair. Let's go."

Akaya moaned and clung to his pillow.

"Uppie," Niou ordered. "Now."

"You're not my boss anymore."

"You're right," Niou leered, "but I'm best friends with Yukimura, and he _is _the boss of you."

Akaya shot up. "He is not!"

"He is," Niou deadpanned. "Let's go."

Akaya sulkily hugged his pillow and followed Niou out of the room in his pajamas.

**

* * *

**

The dinner party was in full swing—or, the prior-dinner-party. Fuji was the type, apparently, to have a prior-party, actual party, and a post-party. The actual dinner party was supposed to be in another building—which was only logical, because from the looks of it, this place was being trashed.

Loud music, crazy dancing, celebrities acting like drunken idiots—the paparazzi would have a field day. Akaya sighed resignedly. Twenty-foursome, huh?

He resisted the urge to mess up his hair. It was gelled flat, and he felt like a soaked puppy.

. . . soaked bulldog.

Not puppy.

Bulldog.

Big, big bulldog.

Akaya tugged at his tie a little and followed Marui into the main room. Marui was practically bouncing—it'd be his first time meeting all these celebrities as their equal, and he hadn't taken his word for it when Akaya told him that no, it's not exciting, and yes, these people are nut jobs.

"This is the teenybopper song!" Marui gasped, and looked like he felt a bit woozy. "This is the song they wanted me to record!" He grabbed Akaya by the shoulders and shook him. "Listen to the lyrics. Listen to the kid's _voice. _Do you see why I couldn't record this?"

"You sound exactly the same," Akaya replied.

"I do not!"

"Fine, you sound exactly the same, except more Japanese. Happy?"

"What? No! I don't have an accent! My English is flawless!"

"Alright, alright, your English is flawless!" Akaya choked out. Marui was practically strangling him. "Let go!"

"I'm probably gonna end up having to sing this, anyway," he muttered under his breath. "I think the producer's daughter is a fan of his, or something. Damn."

"Just woo her yourself," Akaya said sarcastically. "And instead of fangirling over him, she'll fangirl over you."

Marui's eyes lit up. "That's brilliant, Akaya!"

"Wait, no, I was joking—"

"Man, how come I never thought of that?" Marui wondered, and, with a radiant smile on his face, frolicked off to mingle into the crowd.

Akaya rolled his eyes and followed.

There was really nothing to do at parties like this.

Except to avoid certain people.

Like—

"Akaya!"

"Hi, Fuji-san."

Damn it.

"Why hello there!" Fuji exclaimed, sounding pleasantly surprised. "It's absolutely wonderful to see you!"

"How are you?" Akaya replied, then mentally slapped himself for instigating a conversation.

"So glad you asked," Fuji trilled. "I'm doing great—in fact, I'm going to be in a movie! I was just about to ask—would you be interested in co-starring?"

"Probably not," Akaya said hurriedly, and tried to leave, but Fuji grabbed his arm.

"Niou-kun wrote the script," Fuji continued. "It's purely fictional, of course—but it's a very humorous story. You've simply got to talk to Niou about this; you'd be perfect for the lead role, you know. Or, one of the lead roles."

"That's nice." Akaya subtly edged away while Fuji rambled, and made a run for it.

Bumping directly into Yukimura.

"Enjoying the pre-party?" he cooed, and lifted Akaya's chin. "The twenty-foursome isn't until the afterparty, though, so take a break for now. The dinner party will cool things down a bit."

"I thought this was to discuss business?" Akaya asked, inching away.

"We'll discuss business at the dinner party," Yukimura said dismissively. "This is _fun time._"

"I . . . see."

He leaned in until their noses were touching, and Akaya shuddered. Mentally. Those eyes were _creepy, _damn it.

"We'll have to save any uncouth actions for the afterparty," Yukimura said mournfully. "So give me a kiss, darling, and I'll see you then."

"No thank you," Akaya said, panicked.

"Don't you love me?" Yukimura leaned so far in that their lips were literally a millimeter apart.

_God,_ Akaya prayed, _if you help me now then I promise I'll never threaten anybody with my Knuckle Serve again! Please God please God please God please please please I seriously need some divine intervention here—_

Then it happened.

x

"_AKA-CHAAAAN!"_

Yukimura didn't see what occurred, and he never did gather the exact details—all he knew was that some crazy, inexplicable force shoved him about a hundred thousand feet away from Akaya, sent him skidding on the floor, and bumping his head on the refreshments table.

The crowd gasped, and Sanada looked ready to decapitate whoever pushed him aside. Yukimura held up a hand to stop him, and got up himself.

What just happened?

Yukimura steadied himself, one hand grasping the refreshments table and one hand fixing his hair, which was undoubtedly messed up by now. His gaze scanned the room, and finally settled on Akaya, who looked a little traumatized and very, very surprised. There was something rabid-looking standing next to him. Yukimura stiffened—that rabid-looking thing was what had shoved him halfway across the room, no doubt.

It's a bird—no, it's a plane—no, it's . . .

. . . a girl.

She tilted her head to the side, her grin unmoving.

Her eyes glittered like absinthe.

. . . or acid.

Really, _really _dangerous, poisonous, lethal acid.

This was bad.

Marui, he noticed, looked white as a sheet and was muttering, "Oh, shit," under his breath. Yukimura arched an eyebrow, then focused on the girl and smiled brightly. "Why hello, madam. May I help you?"

The young woman's grin was just like that of a little girl's.

A little girl in a horror movie.

Like, the way a little girl smiles, just before her decapitated head pops off her neck and rolls onto the floor.

Her grin widened steadily, and Yukimura noted that her teeth were very, very sharp.

It was a little unnerving, so Yukimura turned to Akaya, who still seemed in shock. "Akaya, do you know her?"

Akaya didn't even glance at him, to his annoyance. "Nee-san," he said incredulously, "what are you doing here?"

Nee-san?

Now that Yukimura looked, he did see the resemblance. Bright green eyes, curling black hair. But there was something different—familiar—about this woman. Had he ever met her? Surely not.

The girl—Kirihara—said, "Hello, Yukimura-kun. My name is Kirihara Emi. I'm Akaya's sister." She was quite beautiful, Yukimura realized, but lethally so. A femme fatale, and the type that looked like she doubled as an assassin. Every word was slow and deliberate, and there was a look in her eyes that—

Oh.

That was why she looked so familiar.

She was a female version of himself.

Huh. How coincidental.

"A pleasure," Yukimura said smoothly. "May I ask what brings you to crash this extremely, extremely exclusive dinner party?"

Her creepy smile remained plastered on her face. "May I ask what brings you to force my little brother into marriage?" She fingered something near her belt, and Yukimura realized it looked like a gun.

Well, damn. He'd left his pistol at home, and he didn't have his penknife with him, either.

Or his vial of hydrochloric acid.

Or any of his poison darts.

Or his machine gun.

He sighed inaudibly; it just wasn't his day.

"It's not forcing," Yukimura pointed out, radiating fake-warmth and sadistic amusement, "if Akaya agrees to it. Which he did. We're very much in love, aren't we, Akaya?"

"Nee-san," Akaya whimpered, and moved closer to her.

Emi smiled comfortingly and put an arm around him. "Don't worry," she cooed. "Nee-san will protect you from the big bad pretty boy." She gave Yukimura a fierce glare. "Got that?"

Honestly, Yukimura was just surprised. This Emi—well, how come she was so badass, and Akaya was such a wuss? Didn't make sense.

"I have every intention of winning my future sister-in-law's approval, Emi-san," Yukimura replied slyly. "Please rest assured that I will."

"You know, I'm very good with knives," Emi said offhandedly.

Yukimura arched an eyebrow.

"I was recruited for the FBI during my trip to America," she continued. "I'm very well-studied in the art of espionage. I know all the poisons in the world by heart and I can list them in alphabetical order. I'm very good with knives."

Yukimura folded his arms, although at this point, it was more of an attempt to hide his discomfort than actual nonchalance.

"Akaya's birthday is coming up soon," Emi added.

"Yes, I know," Yukimura said, not sure where she was going with this.

Emi's grin was slow and terrifying. "I'm thinking of giving him a pistol."

"I'll provide the shooting lessons," Yukimura replied, not missing a beat.

"Akaya's a very quick learner."

Yukimura's slow smile was identical to Emi's. "So am I."

The other partygoers backed away by about ten feet and went to cower in a corner.

"I can't wait to get to know you, _Seiichi._" Partygoers gasped. She dared call him by his first name? On their first meeting? The audacity! The horror!

Yukimura showed no outward reaction, but his smile showed teeth and his eyes shone like daggers. "Nice to meet you too, _nee-chan._"

**

* * *

**

_Nee-chan_: older sister


	15. How to Party

Holy shit it's been nearly a year.

Sorry guys, if anybody remembers who I am. :P I've been pretty busy lately. But anyway, here! It's not much, but it's the best I can do right now; kinda short on time and I'm also pretty sleepy.

Did you miss me?

* * *

Akaya's mouth hung open. Everything had happened in a blur, and somehow he was watching his psychotic older sister call Yukimura by his first name, and his psychotic fiancé call Emi _nee-chan. _

His first reaction was something akin to "_AHHHHHH!_"

His second reaction was, "Well, golly, this kinda sucks. My psycho sis and psycho fiancé are in the same room and they probably both have weapons."

His third and final reaction reverted back to "_AHHHHHH!_"

(And somewhere, in the back of his mind, he also thought, "Ooh, shooting lessons. Those will come in handy in a week or so, when we're walking down the altar. I wonder if machine guns are easy to conceal.")

"You—what—I—no—this—_nee-chan,_" he whimpered, deciding it was better to side with his psychotic older sister. At least they were blood-related. The lesser of two evils. And the both of them were rather evil. This was really not turning out to be a good day—not with the way Marui was offering popcorn to the petrified witnesses and chuckling like this was all a good soap opera. Akaya ground his teeth and vowed to ally with both Emi and Yukimura someday, and annihilate the singer. Stupid Marui. It was all Marui's fault. He wouldn't have gotten himself into this if Niou hadn't said he'd put _Marui _on cleaning duty. If Marui hadn't told him to "act gay". If Marui hadn't made out with him in front of celebrities. If Marui hadn't forced him to sing. If—if—if—!

Stupid Marui.

Emi wrapped her arm around him, consolingly, and stared down into his eyes the way only a psychotic older sister could. "It's okay," she cooed. "Emi-nee-chan's here now."

(It occurred to Akaya that it was rather freaky how similar Emi was to Yukimura. Dating your sister. Ew.)

(Actually, just . . . dating a guy. Ew.)

"Oh, Akaya," Yukimura whispered, sounding hurt. He looked up at him, adoringly, and smiled the way only a psychotic boyfriend could. "You'd pick her over me?" His voice was breathy and quiet, and the other partygoers melted into a collective puddle of goo.

Akaya was torn between smacking himself in the face and smacking Yukimura upside the head. He chose to do neither, since the former would be rather painful and the latter would… probably lead Yukimura to cause him some (read: apocalyptic) pain, too. "It's not _that, _per se," 'cause nee-chan is my sister and everything and there's just so much going on and…" Akaya rambled, one word after the other, bouncing out before he could reel them in.

_"Haha," _his words said. _"We're inadvertently dissing Yukimura and he can't do a thing to us because we're soundwaves and we don't have a body, but you do, Akaya, and he'll make your life miserable and we will watch. Haha. Haha."_

_Damn you,_ Akaya thought back. He plastered a bright, fake, shiny-hard-plastic sort of smile on his face. "I could never choose between the two of you," he lied.

Actually, no.

That's not a lie.

He really couldn't choose between them.

If only because choosing one would mean _not _choosing the other . . .

. . . and _that _meant Death.

Bloody, Violent Death.

Yes, with capitalized letters. Very important to add the capitalized letters.

It was patented, too.

Emi's grip around him tightened.

Yukimura's eyes narrowed.

Akaya slipped away and casually went to get a drink. Or five. Hundred.

Marui cackled evilly.

This meant war.

x

They were huddled in a room, the door shut. The sounds of the party drifted in, but all Akaya could think about was losing his virginity to fifty-something people.

Cue terrified shudder.

"You're not worried at all about the fifty-some, or whatever it is?" Akaya fretted.

Marui snorted. "Unlike some people, _I'm _not a virgin."

Akaya gasped and kicked him in the shin. "We're at a party, jackass! Have some class!"

"Holy fuck, _ow,_" Marui hissed. "Is it my fault you refuse to screw people? That's the whole bloody point of a higher education, you know. College equals sex with strangers. Stupid."

"Are you _deaf_?"

"Psh, no. How could I sing if I were deaf?"

Akaya paused. "First of all, you _could. _Second of all . . . no!"

"Anyway," Marui said, like Akaya wasn't having a quarter life crisis, "My agent says he's not sure if I should sing this peppy love song, or if I should sing another R&B thing. There's going to be a music video for it and everything, but I have to decide on a song, first. What do you think? 'Love Like Woe' by The Ready Set, or 'Break Your Heart' by Taio Cruz?"

Akaya gaped. "I don't care!"

Marui folded his arms in an oh-no-you-didn't sort of way. "Geez, fine! Here I am, trying to be charitable and whatever—you know what? I'm going to ask your sister." He grinned a slow, menacing grin. "Your sister's _hot, _you know. I'd tap that."

"She's my sister!" Akaya sputtered. "And I'm taller than you! So don't you dare!"

Marui cackled. "You know what would really be funny? If Yukimura fell for her, and dumped you. Be like, 'Akaya and Emi turned me straight.' That'd be sad. I mean, funny. But sad."

"It might work out that way; but nee-san really doesn't like him. And as long as she doesn't approve, there's no way I'll ever get married to him. Besides, it's not even legal in Japan."

"Like Yukimura couldn't drag you to Canada or something and marry you there," Marui pointed out with an eye-roll. "Speaking of Mura and Emi, where are they?"

"Hell if I know," Akaya muttered, then added, "Mura? When did you start calling him that?"

"It was either that or Yuki," Marui said defensively. "And Yuki's girly. And I didn't want to call him Seiichi, since he's your boyfriend and all. Wouldn't want you to jump me, or something." He cackled again.

"I will hurt you," Akaya told him seriously. "I will _hurt _you. And if Sanada thinks you're pressuring Yukimura into being unfaithful or something, _he'll _hurt you. And that'll be way, way worse."

Marui raised his hands defensively. "Chill, chill! I won't touch your fiancé."

Akaya moaned and buried his face in his hands.

"Aka-chaaaaaaan," a voice sang. Akaya's head shot up. "Are you busy, darling dearest?"

"Nee-chan," he greeted wearily. "Hi." He got up to open the door, but Marui beat him to it, bowing dramatically and murmuring in a low, seductive tone, "Good evening."

Emi giggled. "What a charming friend you have, Aka-chan!" She looked fantastically eager. "Is he good with knives?"

"I'm a fast learner," Marui assured. "But yeah, I have a little prior knowledge with knives."

"Cooking doesn't count," Akaya deadpanned.

Marui turned almost as red as his hair. "Shut up!"

"A man who cooks," Emi said approvingly. "I like your taste." Her eyes narrowed. "Aka-chan, why didn't you date this young man, instead of…" She trailed off, but it was obvious whom she was speaking of. Then she burst into delirious laughter and added, "Then again, I didn't know you swung that way, my dear! It's my personal opinion you should go back to chasing girls and leave a few hot guys to me—or I might just have to become a lesbian. Never slept with a chick though. I think I'd have to practice a little…"

Marui's expression implied that he wouldn't mind _at all _and could he pretty please watch—

Akaya kicked him in the shin.

"I would love it if you could teach me the art of knife-throwing," Marui offered charmingly, hiding his pained grimace very well.

"And I would love to teach you," Emi responded smoothly, holding out a hand. Marui brought his lips to it with the practiced ease of a well-established flirt. Akaya took one look at the incestuous scene—Marui was his _brother, _goddamnit, and Emi his sister, and to hell with their respective hotness—and forcibly dragged Marui away.

x

Akaya flung open the door to a random room, Marui's collar still in his hands, the redhead cursing at him halfheartedly but mostly laughing which only pissed Akaya off more—

—and promptly saw Niou, half undressed, with two girls laying next to him. His former boss arched an eyebrow and inquired coolly, "Do you mind?"

Akaya's face was even redder than Marui's hair, but the redhead in question just grinned, answered, "I knew there was a reason I looked up to you!" and left Niou in peace, taking Akaya with him.

x

"That was—that—that—" Akaya stuttered, staggering down the hall. "I can't un-see that!"

"Burn the picture into your mind," Marui said approvingly. "This is the epitome of a true party." He smiled a slow smile. "I'd say this is the part where the party gets interesting."

x

Akaya hated it when Marui was right.

x

They were walking past the (suspiciously locked) rooms when Akaya halted. Marui walked straight into him, then scowled and demanded, "What the hell are you doing? We're gonna miss the party! Business deals and stuff, remember? The whole point of this thing?"

"Listen," Akaya hissed.

"To what?" Marui demanded.

"Is that—is that someone _crying_?"

Marui paused and pressed his ear against the door. "I think so," he whispered at last. "What—?"

Someone—a young man—was sobbing hysterically.

And then there was the sound of delirious laughter.

"What's going on in there?" Akaya whispered back, horrified.

The hysterical laughter increased in volume, louder and louder and louder and louder and then—

And then Marui fell into the room and faceplanted on the floor.

Because someone opened the door.

And Akaya was left staring into the brilliant eyes of a switchblade-smiling Fuji Syusuke.


End file.
